10 Normal is Overrated
by E. J. Morgan
Summary: Q-niverse AU - Q is a genius. He is the Quartermaster of MI6; he develops lethal weapons, outfits feared agents for missions and hacks into everything and anything he can find. He is sixteen. He is fearless. So, it won't be a problem for him to go undercover and pretend to be a normal high school student, will it?
1. I The Assignment - Teaser

**I. The Assignment**

It was a Thursday morning (thankfully after his first but sadly just before his second cup of Earl Grey) when Q was called to M's office. Not being able to find any excuse to gain more time to think of what he could have done wrong (he was pretty sure M couldn't possibly know about his hacking the CIA's server for 003's last mission), Q didn't have a choice but to oblige.

So this was the reason why he was presently sitting in front of M's desk, fidgeting nervously (maybe his boss somehow really had heard about stealing data from the CIA…?) while M was regarding him with an expression suspiciously close to amusement.

Deciding that yes, M had unfortunately learned about the serious breach of protocol (he refused to even think 'breach of LAW'), Q opened his mouth to try and explain his motives, how it had saved the agent's life at that time and that getting permission first using official ways had been absolutely impossible, just as M also started his explanation about calling the boy to him in the first place. What came out of it was an incomprehensible jumble.

"Sir, I really don't think it was wrong to-"

"Q, have you ever had any friends-?"

"Excuse me?" – Asked both of them at once, confused.

"Ahm, you first, sir." – Offered Q quickly.

"Well, all right then. I just wanted to ask whether you have ever had friends your own age?"

"Yes, of course! When I was three one of my brothers brought home a stray cat that, according to the doctor, was also around three. She was my best friend for years. But then unfortunately that same brother wanted to do an experiment to see if it was true that cats hate water so he dropped her into a pond and she really did hate it so she disappeared and never came back…"

M was probably seriously regretting ever having asked the question, and pinched the bridge of his nose to impede the approaching headache.

"I meant humans, Q, homo sapiens. You know: people like you and me."

"People? I don't usually associate with people…" – He really didn't. When he had lost his parents at two years of age, nearly dying himself in the same plane-crash, the doctors in the hospital had insisted on him going to counseling. It had been a catastrophe with the psychologist talking to him as if he were a mere baby (well, all right, he had been a baby but a genius one capable of understanding more than just mindless cooing, thank you very much), asking him to draw pictures of his feelings and to demonstrate his nightmares with the help of dolls. Upon his blank, disdainful expression and also because of his refusal to speak at all since waking up after the accident that had claimed his parents' lives, the doctor had concluded that he must have had something wrong with his head and needed more professional help; so they had wanted to have him admitted to a facility for traumatized children. His only luck had been that by that time Mycroft (28 years of age then) had developed enough of a scornful expression that only one condemning look from him had sufficed for the doctor to immediately reconsider her diagnosis and give baby-Q a clean bill of health just to get rid of all the Holmeses as soon as possible and to not have to deal with 'those freakish folks'. He had been brought home the next day, never to visit a psychologist ever again (until his evaluation upon joining MI6 that is, but it was an occasion they still weren't talking about…). - "I much rather work in Q-Branch with computers, gadgets, my minions and agents than go out to meet normal people." – Concluded the boy, stressing the last word as if he were naming some exceptionally disgusting insect.

"What about when you were at school?" – Asked M hopefully.

Q shrugged nonchalantly.

"I wasn't. I was homeschooled. My brothers thought all the teachers were slow and unreliable and the other students a bad influence, and thus I could be much better educated at home, doing all the work on my own. I just had to take all the exams but I usually did more at a time, not even knowing or caring what it really was for, just wanting to get it over with." – That was really an understatement but M didn't have to know it. In reality, with Mycroft and Sherlock agreeing on one single thing in all their lives – that everyone who wasn't a Holmes was stupid and boring – he hadn't really had another choice but to believe them and to live locked up in a cage that was their manor, away from the society and people in general. He still remembered his brothers' reminiscent about how their parents had made an attempt once to socialize their two eccentric children with others (Q hadn't been born back then) and how it had ended with a total failure and with their parents finally begrudgingly accepting that the Holmes brothers just weren't meant for company. Both of them had refused to elaborate the details further but they had made it clear: they wouldn't make the same mistake with their baby brother and 'throw him into the lions' den'. And that meant that ordinary things like public school, public shop, public playground… anything public, really, had been out of question for all his childhood for him.

"Right… ahm…" – M looked like he wanted to rethink any previous plans he might have had that involved Q having any social skills. – "Well, I think you'll be happy to hear that you'll have the opportunity to remedy that and make friends, as you are to go undercover as a student in a high school starting next week."

Q was patiently waiting for the others to jump out from under the table and behind the curtains calling 'April's Fool!', or for M to finally crack and start laughing uncontrollably at his expense, but when after a few agonizing seconds of silence nothing like that had happened Q had to face the fact that it was neither April nor his birthday, or any other occasion that would call for a jest like that.

Regardless, he risked a try anyway: "Sir, surely, you must be joking…"

"I'm afraid not, my boy. We need to gather solid evidence against a suspicious business man whose 17-year-old son and daughter go to that school. You're to get to know and befriend them and find out how they live, what they do, who their family-friends are – everything. Nothing dangerous, just snooping around. All the while you're free to live the normal teenagers' life, make as many friends as you'd like and make up for missed high school experiences." – He said that all winking, looking for all the world like he were doing an enormous favor to Q by giving him that chance. The boy felt something totally different though; a feeling that resembled nausea more than anything else.

"Can't I just hack into their computer and get any data we could need?"

"Absolutely not! You're to behave like a normal sixteen-year-old, not like a genius working for MI6. That means no access to anything more than a normal PC every teenager has and maybe a simple mobile phone. That's all. No lethal weapons, no earpieces, no high-sensitive radios or even exploding pens. You're not to have a gun, a Taser or any kind of self-defense tools either. Nothing. And you're not to bug them or put any tracking devise on any of them."

"WHAT!? But-"

"We're going to be keeping contact via standard phone calls and normal e-mails. You won't be able to relate anything confidential this way to us of course, only coded messages that would appear normal friendly talk to anyone who might be listening in; but that will do. We'll be keeping an eye on you all the time so you won't be in any danger. You won't need anything else."

Q opened and closed his mouth a few times without getting a sound out, giving the perfect impression of a fish. A very pissed-off fish.

M totally ignored the daggers the boy was glaring at him.

"Here is the mission file with everything you will need to know beforehand; please, study it thoroughly. And here are the details of your covert personality: name, birth date, parents' name, address and such things. You'll be living near the school in my friends' house; an elderly couple who are childless and very happy to have you with them for the time being. They'll take good care of you and you can go to them with every problem you might have. They know about you being MI6 and you can trust them. I am sure you'll have a great time together." – M slid to him two dossiers over the table and waved his hand in clear dismissal before Q could as much as think about starting to protest again.

With nothing more remaining to do, Q gave M a withering glare that could have made lesser men run screaming the other way, and that always had his minions jump to do his bidding at once; but M just continued smiling at him with fatherly affection, not even a hint could be detected on him of being fazed by the boy's fury.

After a few minutes sitting like that, Q recognized defeat and left the office fuming.

When the door closed behind the boy, M's smile faltered then disappeared completely. He was regretting his choice of action already – he hadn't expected the teenager to be outright happy about being sent away on an undercover assignment of course, but also hadn't counted on him being totally disgusted with the idea of meeting other teenagers and going to school. If anything, he had hoped the sixteen-year-old would be glad to get a break after his recent ordeal with 0011 and his two cronies and be able to relax and maybe make some friends who aren't at least twice his age and internationally feared assassins. He would have simply given the boy some days off, but the last (and only) time Q had taken a weekend-long vacation had ended with him declaring in a no-nonsense way never to do it ever again (the reasons behind it still unknown to everyone he had asked), so that wasn't an option now. Still, it was clear they had to do something to help him; he simply just wouldn't eat anymore and was working himself to death, so all had agreed that action had to be taken immediately.

M resigned himself to try and make sure the boy enjoyed himself on his forced mission (while hopefully also obtaining the evidence they honestly needed), and would emerge from it feeling better rather than even worse…


	2. II Seeking Advice

**Seeking Advice**

Q spent the better part of Friday (actually, the whole day, except for the nearly four hours he had to direct 001 and 002's joint mission and the 1,5 hours he spent looking up all the subjects they teach the sixteen-year-old students – 'Really, how DULL can they get!?') trying to talk to everyone he could find about what high school was like.

As the end of the day was nearing, he got more and more nervous, feeling like he didn't have any useful information about school life but a lot of "helpful" suggestions he didn't know what to do with. He was scheduled to move into his temporary home at M's friends' house the next day, so as to be able to get used to his new surroundings before he had to begin classes on Monday. Until then he still had to brief R on what to do in his absence which wasn't very easy, especially since he didn't know how long he'd be away. Ever since becoming Quartermaster (or even before that as old Boothroyd's apprentice) he had never missed more than three days in a row, and even on these – admittedly very-very rare – occasions he had always returned to unimaginable chaos and to his desk overflowing with files. He didn't even want to think about what would await him now, should he somehow survive this little outing with his brain still intact and thus be able to come back and continue with his habitual life…

As of right now, he was sitting in the Cafeteria with James and Alec, both of whom were currently having dinner and taking turns trying to feed Q with things the boy couldn't even identify but was certain would never so much as touch, let alone put into his mouth, chew and swallow… He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought and shoved Alec's hand away for what felt like the thousandth time.

"So, what have you got already?" – Asked James while he shared a meaningful look with Alec at the other's newest unsuccessful attempt. Really, didn't they realize Q was there and could see them?

Deciding not to dwell the topic right now, he answered the original question instead. "Well, I have a list of what others told me to do…" – He said, showing them a paper with hand-written notes on it.

Alec put down his fork, took the sheet of paper from the boy and started to read out loud: "First: 'Get laid', second: 'Get drunk, third: 'Smoke weed', fourth: 'smoke cigarettes'… It goes on and on like that! Dear God, Q, whom did you ask?"

"All of my minions and some of the Double-Os."

"Jesus. I've always known those geeks only pretended to be so proper, boring citizens to fool us. In reality, they're even worse than a herd of enraged football-hooligans!" – Commented James incredulously.

Alec crumpled the paper and threw it into the trashcan over the heads of the other MI6 employees currently having their lunch and talking among themselves. Some of them looked up alarmed and shot a condemning look in his direction but turned away right after registering that it was a Double-O agent, and a very dangerous one at that. Nobody wanted to get on his bad side after all. Alec just waved at them and grinned sweetly, before looking seriously at Q and declaring: "There's no way I'm letting you have a list like that."

"It's ok, I have a photographic memory you know." – At the two agents' slightly panicked expressions, he quickly added: - "I was planning on using it as an 'absolutely-never-to-do-list', don't worry." – Both agents heaved a sigh of relief.

"Have you asked Eve yet? I'm sure she could help you best." – Suggested James and at Alec's disbelieving look, he continued his reasoning. - "What? She's a sensitive woman!"

Q just shrugged.

"Well, of course I have. She told me to get a tattoo."

"God, the world is coming to an end" – Exclaimed James horrified.

Alec just shook his head pityingly.

"I didn't expect anything else."

"Well, what did the two of you do at that age then?" – For some reason, 007 choked on his food and started to cough uncontrollably, while 006 suddenly remembered he had forgotten something, jumped up muttering a few apologies and fled the scene.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

The next person to ask was Tanner. Good, old, reliable Bill who loved Q as if he were his own son, was very glad to help.

"Well, teenagers usually like going to the mall and spend the day looking at the shops, laughing and generally just having fun. You look at the display of trendy cloths, football fan shops, computer games… eventually cars." – Tanner looked reminiscent, probably remembering his own childhood when he hadn't had to worry about work 24/7.

"Why would it be fun to walk around, looking at things you don't want to buy?"

"Well, they want to buy those things, of course, they just usually don't have the money… It's a good incentive to make you want to look for a summer job though."

"It's funny, I never felt the need to buy anything like that, really. If I would like to, I could afford any of these, but what for? I don't need trendy cloths, I don't like football, I don't have time to play games on the computer (they're not very challenging, anyway) and I can build any car for myself from scratch."

"Ahm… yeah, that's right… Well. Sixteen-year-olds go to the movie theater."

"Why?"

"To watch a movie, eat popcorn and have a good time with friends."

"I can watch any movie on my laptop if I want, though I haven't had time for that these last years… And I don't see why I would go to any lengths to be able to eat popcorn… It doesn't look very appealing."

"But you have done that, haven't you? I mean, when you were little, you went to see films and such?"

"Ahm… No?" – Q felt silly and uncertain. He had always known his family was untraditional of course but he had never until now realized just how much like a freak he must look to others.

"You have never been!?" – Oh, here it was. Bill's incredulous outburst was confirmation enough.

"No… But I don't feel like I've missed out on anything, honestly!" – Well, maybe people were right, and he WAS actually a freak? He'd have to talk to Sherlock about it, he was the one constantly called that after all. But honestly, just the mere possibility that there could be any similarity between them other than their looks (which was unfortunately undeniable), made Q's stomach churn.

Tanner gave up after a few more suggestions (café – "I don't drink coffee and they usually make horrible tea", pastry shop – "I don't eat cakes or ice cream", gym – "I have that right here if I ever feel the need to work out, which I don't by the way") and just looked at him with so much pity in his eyes that Q couldn't take it anymore and excused himself under the pretense of having gotten a message from Q-Branch about an emergency.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

As he was exiting the building in the evening, Moneypenny came jogging after him.

"What is it, Eve, did I forget something?" – He asked her suspiciously.

"As a matter of fact: yes, you did!" – Answered Eve with a positively delighted grin and pulled something out of her special bag that seemed to be able to swallow anything. This time it was-

"Paddington! You need to take him with you. He wants to see the world, not just sit in your office all the time. He'll get bored, and believe me: a bored bear is not something you want to experience!

Q just shook his head but took the offered teddy nonetheless.

"It's just a toy, Moneypenny."

"Shhh! He doesn't know that! Well, have a good time then!" – And with a last kiss on his forehead and a ruffling of his hair, she disappeared back into the building, leaving Q standing at the gate holding his bag and a teddy bear, with his hair in even more disarray than usually.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

On the way to his flat he dialed – for what was probably the first time ever doing it voluntarily – Mycroft's number. It was Anthea who answered the call ('really, those two MUST be dating', thought Q while he waited for the call to be transferred).

 _\- Brother dear, I must admit, I am pleasantly surprised. It's not every day my littlest brother finds the time to talk to me and ask about my well-being._

\- I didn't ask about your well-being, Mycroft.

 _\- It's a shame then, Bene-_

\- Tell me please: don't you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us? – there was such a long pause on the other end that Q felt compelled to check if the line was still active.

 _\- What makes you ask that?_

\- Well, for starters: I have never been to the movie theater.

 _\- So? You can download any films even before the cinemas start playing them. Besides, you don't have time to watch movies._

\- I have never been to the mall to just look at the shops…

 _\- That's because we always had things delivered or the staff brought them for us. Holmeses don't waste time doing insignificant things such as shopping._

\- What about going to school?

 _\- What's that all about? Are you not satisfied with the education you had? As far as I know it got you a super-secret job not even I can know any specifics about. I didn't think you'd be disappointed with that._

\- I didn't say I was disappointed, and it's not about education. I just think I might have missed out on a few things growing up.

 _\- What kind of things?_

\- Oh, I don't know.., maybe like actually MEETING other people?

 _\- And just why would you want to meet other people? People are generally incompetents and not adequate company for us. Sadly, we live in a world of goldfish._

\- What if not everyone is like that? What if I could have had pals or – God forbid – even FRIENDS?

 _\- Little brother, when you were learning the regular school stuff, you were about 2-6 years old. What do you think high school would have been like for you?_

\- Ah… all right, you have a point there. Well, it was NOT nice talking to you. Good-

 _\- Bene—_

\- Don't say my name!

 _\- Well, Brother then. Is something wrong?_

\- No. Everything is fine. Bye. – With that he disconnected the call and angrily dropped his phone back into his bag. Q didn't really know what he had been hoping to gain from calling Mycroft but it had certainly only served to irritate him even more.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Halfway home he decided to take a little detour and changed tubes to the direction of Baker Street.

He had never been inside 221B before and had met Doctor John Watson only a handful of occasions. He knocked on the door and it was nearly instantly opened by a very lovely elderly lady.

"Hi, dear, are you looking for Sherlock?"

Q blinked confusedly. Surely they didn't look that much alike, did they? The lady took his silence as confirmation and ushered him upstairs.

"Clients are coming all the time now, you know. That boy, Sherlock and his _friend_ " – She gave a conspiratorial wink at that word which Q couldn't explain. – "John… They have become very popular lately. I'm not surprised someone would come this late. Well, luckily for you, Sherlock is home, so don't hesitate to knock and then enter. Sometimes when he is bored he just shuts out all the outside noises and then won't invite you in on his own."

Q stood before the door to Sherlock and John's home and hesitated for a moment but then decided if he was already here, he might as well get in. He knocked and – heading the housekeeper's advice – entered without waiting for an answer.

Inside it was very dark with only a small flickering candle in one of the corners giving him some semblance of an idea where he was going. As he could see or hear no one, he took an experimental step forward then – encouraged by the fact that he hadn't tripped over anything (you could never know with Sherlock, that much he remembered from his childhood) – proceeded to make his way slowly and carefully through the living room.

He was concentrating so hard on the tedious task of navigating through the room safely that he nearly got a heart attack when a deep voice from the far end of the room greeted.

"Ah, little brother! What brings you here to my humble home?"

Q stopped and tried to see something in the dark.

"Sherlock? How did you know… Never mind. Why are you sitting in the dark? Is it for an experiment?"

"I guess you could say that. I'm experimenting to see how well Mycroft takes to not being able to see us through the cameras. Unless of course these cameras see in the dark, in which case it is all totally superfluous… But worth a try, anyway."

"They can indeed see in the dark. Want me to disable them?"

"You mean you could actually do that?"

"Of course. You don't think I put up with him spying on me? I cleared my home ages ago and in the end he just had to admit defeat."

Sherlock gave a happy little shriek, jumped off the chair he had been perched in, and swiftly (without any difficulties, Q noted grudgingly) crossed the room to flick on the lamp. The sudden brightness blinded them both for a moment.

Sherlock pulled out a laptop from under a pile of heavy-looking books and wordlessly handed it to Q. The boy went to work on writing his program to interfere with any surveillance systems that might be in the flat or outside of it on the street, all the while trying to take in his surroundings.

"Is that a teddy bear you've brought with you?" – Asked Sherlock after a while, looking for once in his life confused.

Q shrugged.

"You have it very comfy here. I especially like that skull on the mantelpiece."

"He's my first friend."

"I'll try not to feel disturbed by that… But speaking of friends: where's John? I haven't seen him for ages."

"No wonder, after your last conversation with him… He went out to get milk. He got a little bit irritated when he found out I've used it all up for an experiment to see how cut-off body parts just as human fingers or tongues react to different kinds of liquid."

"Oh? And what did they do in the milk?"

"Absolutely nothing whatsoever. Not even the eyeballs, even though I'd had big hopes for them."

"What a waste."

"Yeah, not much of a disappointment though. These are notable findings. Might come in handy sometime."

"I'll try to remember it in case the occasion ever arose where I'd need to blind someone using everyday household liquids… So, it's ok, you shouldn't have any more problems about being watched by that perverted stalker who calls himself our brother. I also took the liberty to install a new antivirus program instead of the old one. It was horrible. And I've rearranged the file-system to make it boot up quicker." – And with that he handed back the laptop. Sherlock took it and sat it on the table beside a half-eaten apple and an old, well-used hat. – "You're welcome, by the way." - Said Q pointedly.

"Oh, it's not mine, it's John's. Mine is in my bedroom. Too far away. But if you would be kind enough to fetch it, I wouldn't complain about your upgrading it."

Q just shook his head and went to examine the smiley face on the wall.

"You did it again, didn't you? I thought you got into enough trouble for shooting at the wall the first time with mommy and daddy. I still remember the incident and I was what… around 1,5 years old?"

"16,5 months old, actually, and you were the one to tell on me in the first place. I don't understand what the problem is with it, but Mrs. Hudson wasn't very thrilled about it either."

"The housekeeper?"

"Don't let her hear you call her that. She insists she's our landlady."

Q nodded as if it remembering his life BtC ('before the crash') didn't make his head (and funny enough his chest) hurt and as if he hadn't already regretted coming to Baker Street at all.

"So, now that we have the pleasantries behind us, are you ready to tell me why you've come?" – It seemed Sherlock was finally losing his patience with small talk. Q was surprised he had actually taken it for so long. John really had had a good influence on his brother, he decided. – "I've read in an article that it is customary to make friendly conversation for about 5-10 minutes before getting to business. We have already passed that time, as you arrived exactly 11,5 minutes ago so I guess it's all right to move on now." – Leave it to Sherlock to research things like that… Well, at least he was making an effort to fit in which is exactly what Q wanted to talk about, so he took a big breath and began:

"Sherlock, do you think we're freaks?"

"We, as in you and me, or how do you mean?" – Asked Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean us, the three Holmes brothers…"

"Oh, well. Mycroft definitely is. Have you seen him recently? He can say anything he wants about his diet but it's definitely not working and it makes him even more unbearable than he normally is." – Sherlock smiled but then realized Q wasn't in a mood for jokes, and continued in a more serious tone. "I get it all the time from Anderson and Donovan."

"Does it bother you?"

"Nooooo…" – He must have noticed he didn't sound really convincing so he added for good measure. – "I don't care about what people think of me. They are generally idiots and boring. Why would their opinion be of any importance me? But the question is little brother: why do you ask? Is someone hurting you again?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just that… I don't understand. After mommy and daddy's death we never did anything normal, like going to the movies or eating ice cream or anything. Mycroft just kept me locked away from everyone during all my childhood in a twisted version of 'Room' and you let him. Why?"

"I was young."

"You were 21 when our parents died."

"Exactly."

"That's not so young."

"Well, I was too busy getting high. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you here to blame me for any problems you may have encountered in your life? I would have thought you took revenge on both of us when you disappeared at the age of 12, letting us think for 2 years-"

"Only 1,5 years!"

"All right: 1,5 years then that you were dead when in reality all the while you were actually having the time of your life with your new hush-hush job!" - Q had never seen Sherlock so angry and definitely never directed at him. He knew he had hurt both his brothers immensely when he faked his death but he had never really expected them to be that affected by it. None of his brothers was prone to emotional outbursts after all.

"No, I'm not blaming you for anything. I'm just trying to understand." – Clarified Q.

"You're not the only one who lost his parents in that crash you know. And you're definitely not the one who had to listen to the doctors explain how their two-year-old baby brother was in a coma that he may never wake up from. Or worry about the state said baby brother would be in should he wake up one day."

Q heaved a sigh and leaned back on the couch.

"No, you're right. I'm just the mentioned baby brother who woke up from a coma after nearly a month, with horrible eye-sight from hitting his head, and an orphan with two brothers in their twenties who didn't feel capable of taking care of a child at all. Oh, and not to mention the permanent fear of flying. I get a panic attack at the mere thought of getting on a plane ever again. You're right, I am the lucky one." – And if he sounded bitter, he really couldn't care less.

"Nobody is lucky here. Let's face it: we've all had shitty lives. It comes with being a Holmes. You wanted to know if we are freaks? Well, yes, we totally are. Get used to it, brother dear, because there's no escaping your destiny."

"Been reading Hobbes and Spinoza again, Sherlock? I didn't take you for a follower of the Determinism."

"I'm not. I'm a realist."

"I think you're wrong."

"I fear you'll find I'm right."

"Is that why you turned to drugs? Did they help?"

"No, so I don't advise you to try it."

At that moment, Sherlock's phone started to ring persistently. He took a glance at it and then turned it off.

"Mycroft" – He said simply, as if it explained everything. – "Probably just realized that the cameras aren't working anymore."

The landline was next.

"Just ignore it. He'll give up after a week or two." – Advised Q and pulled its cable from the wall.

Both Holmses turned to the door as it opened and John entered.

"Hey, Sherlock, do you know why Mycroft is calling me? I can't take it now, my arms are full... Oh, I didn't know we'd have company." – Said John as he spotted their visitor.

"Just ignore the call, John." – Said Sherlock without moving to help his flatmate with the shopping bags or explaining Q's presence. He just took his violin and started to strum its chords.

Q, on the other hand, moved to take a few of the bags and helped to deposit them on the kitchen counter.

"I just needed to talk to my brother. I'm not going to stay for long, don't worry. I know that two of us in the same room at a time can be a bit overwhelming."

"Well, as long as it's not the three of you together… It's okay, you're always welcome here. But you're really sure there isn't more of you, aren't you?" – John looked absolutely terrified of the idea of even more Holmeses running around London, and looked to Sherlock for confirmation.

"Just the three of us, John, don't worry. Besides, he's only halfway a Holmes now, seeing he doesn't want to use the name anymore. Not even Bene-"

"Would you just call me Q please?"

"Queue?" – John blinked confusedly. Up until now he had only heard about the youngest Holmes brother being referred to as Benedict. He hadn't known the name was a taboo.

"No, just the letter."

"Benedict, stop it." – Sherlock ignored Q's scandalized outburst and continued, rolling his eyes dramatically. – "It's because of his very secret MI6 job that even Mycroft isn't allowed to know the details about and his real name is top secret. He needs to be protected at all costs. He's a genius, you see."

"Of course he is…" – John didn't expect anything else, even though the boy seemed absolutely normal during their brief and sparse meetings.

Q glared at Sherlock.

"My name is not 'top secret'; it simply doesn't exist anymore. Benedict Dominic Holmes died four years ago in a hit and run. Didn't you pay attention at the funeral, big brother?" – The look on Sherlock's face at that question probably would even have made Anderson take pity on him and Donovan hug him for comfort. Q realized he was being – though unintentionally so – very cruel, and cleared his throat, ashamed. John looked murderous and the boy could understand. 'Wow, Sherlock, your first human friend is a very loyal fellow. I hope you value and keep him.' Out loud he said: - "I apologize, it was uncalled for. Don't worry, John, generally, I'm the most normal one."

"That doesn't say much though." – Butted in Sherlock and took the bow out from under the couch along with a sock which he smelled then with a grimace promptly threw away again.

"MI6… Is this when you tell me that if I ever find out anything about it or tell anyone about knowing you, you'll have to kill me?" – Asked John only half joking.

"No, of course not. It would be very cliché and impolite. Besides, I don't do assassination; I have people under my command for that. Blunt instruments and such, you know. Someone to pull the trigger, should it be necessary."

The silence that followed this statement was only broken by Sherlock's screeching on his violin.

Q clapped his hands together.

"Well, I regret to break up this party but I still have things to do tonight. It was nice meeting you again, John. We should do it more often. Sherlock." – And with that, Q took his bag and teddy bear and left 221B.

John stood rooted to the spot for at least another two full minutes. The Holmeses certainly were full of surprises all the time.


	3. III Let the Adventure Begin!

**Let the Adventure Begin**

Q didn't sleep well that night. He kept having nightmares about suddenly finding himself in the middle of a full classroom, with all his future classmates staring at him wide-eyed, or even outright laughing at him. He couldn't understand their reaction until he looked down on himself, and found that he had forgotten to switch his slippers to shoes and was still clad in his pajamas, and had sleep-tousled hair. Then his glasses became totally fogged, and couldn't see anything clearly anymore, only hear the taunts and insults thrown at him.

The scene focused again, and the teacher kept insisting he sing the school's anthem in front of the whole school in the great hall, doing the accompanying dance and wouldn't accept the boy's excuse of only having arrived that day and not having any idea about school songs or other customs.

Then the students started to sing a song about how nobody wanted or needed newcomers and especially scrawny little Quartermasters at the school, and as a "dance" kept hitting him with their school bags to chase him away.

Next, he dreamt about walking into MI6 bringing his school books and notebooks with him instead of his laptop and documents. The guards, the minions, Moneypenny, M and Tanner were all teasing him mercilessly with all the Double-Os teaming up to poke fun on him and call him names like 'tiny school boy' or 'snotty child'.

Then M called him to his office and informed the boy he would be chucked out, because with this childish behavior he had proved he wasn't ready for the responsibility of a Quartermaster yet and it would be perhaps better if he went back to school for real to socialize a little bit more.

So dream-Q got his dismissal notice and walked out of HQ dragging his school bag after him, holding the broken pieces of his beloved Q-mug that R had thrown to the floor to mock him about losing his position and symbolize his life shattering to pieces.

He woke up around midnight bathed in sweat and panting, feeling absolutely nauseous and shaky, not even ashamed about the teardrops he could feel running down his cheeks. There was nobody to see him, thank God.

The boy wasn't new to nightmares, of course. As a child, he'd had them constantly, going so far that after a while he'd come to hate going to sleep in the evening and would do anything to prolong it for as long as possible. The dreams had been mostly about the plane crash or some even about his dead parents coming back to haunt him, telling him how disappointed they were in him and how they had never expected their littlest son to be a failure like that… Or Mycroft and Sherlock realizing how much they hated their little brother for surviving when their parents hadn't, and this being stuck with having to raise a child they had never asked for not wanted. But recently these had become sparser and sparser, until – around two years ago or so – they had completely disappeared. This had probably something to do with the fact that most of the time he was so deadly tired that he fell unconscious more than asleep when he finally got the time to rest… But still, it had been nice to be free from nighttime terror for once in his life.

So this now… this had been unexpected. And not welcome at all.

He untangled his body from the bedsheets, dragged himself out to the bathroom, and looked warily into the mirror. He looked absolutely dreadful: his hair was in disarray which showed how much he must have turned over and over in his sleep as an attempt to flee from his (hopefully only imagined) demons; his eyes were red and puffy from crying and he was shaking like a leaf. Also, his pajamas were uncomfortably sticking to his body with cold sweat.

The teenager tried to right himself a little by washing his face in ice cold water and repeatedly speaking out load for his image in the mirror how it had only been a horrible nightmare and how no one in MI6 would ever in reality do that to him. It didn't help that he sadly wasn't so sure about his future schoolmates though… He pulled off his pajama top and threw it into the laundry, not even bothering to put on anything else instead.

Making a mental note for the morning to check to see if there are really such things as school anthems and dances, he left the bathroom, switched off the lamp and collapsed into the bed for the rest of the night, clutching Paddington to his chest like a lifeline.

He finally managed to go back to sleep around 1 AM, but sadly, the nightmares kept reappearing during the whole remaining night.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

Q had to leave early the next morning, so he got up at 5 AM, drank an Earl Grey, took a shower, drank an Earl Grey, packed his bag and drank a mint tea from the selection M gave him as a present. ('Hm… maybe there really IS a life beyond Earl Grey…')

He felt really horrible after such a night, as if he hadn't slept anything at all. As a matter of fact; it probably would have been much better if he hadn't slept… His head was pounding terribly, and his eyes felt like they had been on fire. No amount of rubbing them helped, it only made things worse: now he even looked like he had been crying again, with his eyes red and puffy.

Q sighed heavily, accepting that he couldn't do anything to improve his appearance, so it was useless to try anymore. With that ominous though he grabbed his things and with a last, rueful glance around his home, he got going.

On a second thought he turned back from the door, hurriedly grabbed Paddington Bear and stuffed him into his bag on top of his clothes. He didn't even pack his laptop or mobile phone because he just KNEW M must have spoken with whoever they were he was going to live with about how he was not allowed to use any kind of technical equipment aside from what they were going to provide him with. And he didn't hold out much hope for those – he knew everything that could be bought in regular commerce was basically useless.

Grumping at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, he locked up the flat, activated the various alarms he had installed over the years and went down the stairs to stand in front of the building, waiting for the car that was due to pick him up at 6:15.

He didn't have to wait long. An MI6 issued car soon cane to stop in front of him and the driver (Mike, if he remembered correctly) opened the door for him, smiling, as if this had been the most wonderful morning of all. Q had to consciously bite back a wrathful remark. The driver wasn't at fault about his bad mood and he really didn't deserve to have to suffer for it, the teenager decided.

"Good morning, Quartermaster! Please, get in!"

The boy sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice in the matter anymore. ' _Alea iacta est'_ …

On the way to wherever they were going (Mike had refused to give away anything about their destination, and no amount of ordering or threatening had helped – the man had said he had been instructed by M himself to keep quiet but also had assured the boy smiling knowingly he'd learn soon enough anyway) Q read through the mission files for the first time.

His name was going to be Daniel (Danny) Coulter, 16 years old, son of the late carpenter Benjamin Coulter and the bookshop-seller Annika Coulter. He grew up in Swindon, Wiltshire with his mother and older sister, Clara (18), his dad having died when he was only in nursery. (Too close to the truth for Q's liking and he gave an involuntary shiver upon reading it.) He had gone to school near his home but there were some behavioral issues that forced his mom to send him to her brother and his wife's to Stevenage, Hertfordshire. ('So, that's where we're headed' – Thought Q. Though it wasn't much help, as he'd never been there before.) He would attend the North Hertfordshire College. His uncle was a strict but fair man, ex-military, called Alan Marshall and his kind-hearted wife, Mary, who didn't have a job but was very active in charity work, which she organized regularly in the local church.

'What a picture-book life. Nobody will fall for it.' – Q disdainfully noted that he didn't have any credit cards on his fake name. Inside the envelop, he only found an ID, a student's card and a season ticket for the Stevenage public transport. That was it. Not even a library ticket. Q double-, then triple checked, but there was really nothing more. ('Typical. And they ask me why I don't deliver the task of creating background stories and documents for the agents…') He instantly regretted not taking any electronic devices he could have used to send a message to his minions about the sloppy job they had done with his alias.

Finally resigning himself to the fact that however long he stared at the files they wouldn't produce any more information for him, he proceeded to read up everything he had on his target instead: 54 years old business man called Michael Johnson, with a lot of dubious transactions from companies that were suspected to be involved in everything illegal imaginable, from money laundering to blackmail, forgery, and even smuggling. His daughter and son, both 17 years old, were going to the same school Q would be attending. The boy was called Michael Johnson Jr. ('Pff, what a surprising, creative choice of name!') and was the captain of the school's football team and a heartthrob for the girls. ('Jesus, can you get even more stereotypical?')

It turned out that yes, it definitely could become even more so, for Michael Johnson Jr.'s twin sister, Margaret – who was together with him in all his classes, except for PE -, was said to be beautiful and the most popular girl of the school. Q was glad he hadn't had any breakfast for fear he would lose it right then and there. ('I won't be surprised if people are going to just start singing and dancing at the appropriate places at that hellhole… It all could be the script of a family musical.') He was starting to suspect that Mycroft and Sherlock were right with their belief: normal just wasn't for a Holmes. And to think he hadn't even arrived yet and was already annoyed with everything… As his luck currently stood, he'd probably end up living with the most boring family as well. What if they were really doing charity work and wanted to make him participate as well? What if they would want to make him go to _church_ …? Q just couldn't imagine himself sitting through a mass, praying and singing with the crowd. He was afraid he'd get into a fit of laughter during the process and wouldn't be able to stop or he'd just fall asleep in the middle of it, and fall down his seat…

Luckily, his target was so much more interesting. Apart from probably being a first-class criminal (and Q honestly could respect those to some extent, because most of the time it took some level of brilliance to commit the crimes) he was most possibly also cheating on his wife with his secretary. Also expected and textbook-like, but at least convenient. It might help Q gain information if he had some leverage on his 'victim'. Q also suspected the wife might not be an innocent Damsel in distress either, though he didn't have any data on her in the documents. He would just have to research the family further for himself.

The journey was short and uneventful. Very soon they arrived to their destination in Stevenge, Hertfordshire – a beautiful and enormous manor house with a huge garden and luxurious iron gates with stone pillars! From where the car had come to a halt in the front lawn right before the still closed gate, waiting for admission, Q could see that a long road was leading up to the house's entrance. As they were finally allowed to enter and drove up the hill to the house, the boy saw a fountain that happily spit water high into the air from the mouth of the dolphin statue in the middle. All around it and also scattered all over in the grass were lots and lots of colorful flowers, most of them totally unknown for the boy who had never really even left their city house during his childhood. God, there was even a hedge maze! Unbelievable!

"Quartermaster!" – Q jerked back to reality to the driver's call. It was probably not the first time the man had tried to get his attention but he was just so entranced with the view he hadn't been able hear him before. – "This is where I leave you. I was told to drive away as soon as you get out of the car. Your hosts will come momentarily."

Q nodded and exited the car clutching his bag to his chest and looking around in awe. He didn't even register the car driving away or the two people standing chuckling behind him.

"You like it?" – Q spun around to look at the owner of the voice and nearly fainted. He dropped his bag in surprise and tried to make sense of the whole situation: for before him in the door of the house stood the former M and Q, arm in arm, smiling at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What…? How…? I mean… When…? Ahm…" – Q, the current that is, just couldn't find the words and opted for a very confused expression instead.

"Very eloquent, Quartermaster. Just as I would be expecting from my antecedent!" – chuckled the old Q good-naturally.

"Ahm…" – Q tried again but then gave up, still not able to speak from sheer shock.

"Son, I'm sure you must have a lot of questions. Please, do come in. I've made breakfast and we will explain everything to you." – And with that the old M ushered him inside the house with a hand on his shoulder while the old Q picked up his forgotten bag.

The house inside was every bit as marvelous as from the outside. It was like a palace! Everything was very artfully furnished with stylish decorations and it just generally had a very welcoming feeling.

From the great hall, Q was led upstairs by the two smiling adults and shown into a room with adjoining private bathroom.

"This is going to be your room for your entire stay. I've made your bed and you can find extra blankets in the cupboard. The bathroom has everything we thought you'd need but feel free to tell us if we have forgotten something." – Said the old M.

"You may use everything in here and pack out your things just as you see fit. The computer has an internet connection though as Mallory might have already explained it to you, you may only use it for learning and everyday purposes: 'everyday purpose' meaning with the standards of average people, not yours, mind you." – Explained the old Q with a wink. "I'm afraid we don't have much of a security here, we're not in the spying business anymore after all."

"There's a library downstairs beside the sitting room, you are welcome to come and go at your pleasure. You can take out books, too, of course, just please return them to their respective places after reading. Oh, and we have all your school things in the drawers of the desk."

'School things'… Q just nodded. It was all too much to take in at once, his head was beginning to spin and he wished for a big cup of tea.

As if M sensed his discomfort, she declared.

"Enough of the rules for now, let's go have breakfast. We can talk the other matters over while eating. Just leave your bag here, dear, and let's go."

Q was going towards the door when he started to feel very funny: his feet were too weak to support his body, and he was shivering. Clearly, this whole mess had upset him more than he had originally thought…

The next moment everything went black as he lost consciousness.


	4. IV Explanations

**Explanations**

It was hours later when he woke up. He was lying on the bed in his temporary room. Someone had taken off his shoes and glasses, and tucked a blanket around him. Through the window he could see that the sun was already high in the sky, meaning it must have been sometime around midday. Sure enough: the clock on the nightstand showed that it was 12:35 PM. There was also a glass of water standing beside the clock from which he eagerly took a sip.

It suddenly dawned on Q: he had passed out in front of the old M and Q! The next thing that he became aware of was that it meant that it wasn't a dream: he was indeed in the house of the two ex MI6 employees. And M (the new one of course) had planned it all, meaning he had known all the time! What a mess… Just thinking about it made his head hurt even more.

He slowly sat up and then carefully stood, experimenting to see if he had enough balance to stay upright this time. Thank God, he managed it without fainting again. After a few moments he still felt good enough and it gave him courage to try and leave the room to have a look around the house and maybe talk to its inhabitants.

Upon stepping out of his room, he found himself on a hallway. His room was the second door to the left. The first, closer to the stairs led probably into another bedroom. Maybe the old M and Q's, hard as it was to think of them sharing a room… but other than them living together as a happy couple he just couldn't imagine why they would be here, both of them, 'chaperoning' him during his mission.

He made his way down the stairs and into the sitting room, ex-M sat at a mahogany desk, reading a book, whole the old Q was tinkering with something at another, much smaller but decidedly messier table. Both of them looked up when the boy entered.

"Oh, you've woken up finally! How are you, son?" – Asked M worriedly and quickly stood to go to him and check his temperature. "You don't feel feverish…"

"I'm fine, ma'am. Really, it's okay. I'm sorry I've made you worry."

"Nonsense. You're a bit overwhelmed; it's understandable. Well, come on, you need to eat; you look like a stronger wind could blow you over. You have always been a skinny little thing, boy, but that's extreme even for you." – With that she took his arm and manhandled him into the diner.

The old Q followed them and sat with him at the table while the ex-leader of MI6 prepared sandwiches for them all. It was all very domestic but somehow didn't fit the idea he had about both his old mentors at all… They had been like family, that's true, but still, it was just all so unbelievable, he couldn't find the words for it.

Soon, old M reentered the room with a tray full of different sandwiches and put it in the middle of the dining table. On next turn she brought cups and hot, steaming TEA (with capital letters, bless her!).

"Well, don't hesitate, help yourselves!" – Q didn't need to be told twice. He poured himself an enormous amount of tea and drank it at one go without caring about how it burned his throat. His companions just blinked surprised while he poured a second cup and proceeded to drink it too – though in a more conventional pace this time. He tried very hard not to show how much his throat now hurt.

"So, son, you probably have a lot of questions. Please, do take a sandwich, too, and then ask anything you want."

Q didn't take a sandwich but started to list questions with a lightning speed that would have made a spaceship proud.

"Do you two live here? Together? Has M, I mean: Mallory, known about it the whole time? Does Bond know? What about Rodriguez and the other agents? Am I to keep it a secret? Are you REALLY living together? Ahm… ma'am." – Finished Q sheepishly when he ran out of oxygen.

The old Q chuckled and put down the sandwich he had been eating. "First of all: please, call us on our names. There's no need for awkwardness and we're not your superiors anymore. I don't even understand why we didn't tell you this before, you were always like family to us. And we're not working for MI6 anymore, so we officially have our real names again. A rebirth if you know what I mean. Call me Major, please."

"And I am Olivia. But in public, don't forget to use our aliases all the time. These are actually the names we are known here with. Now, there's the question what we should call you. I know you're real name of course; hell, I am probably the only one who even knows your surname, since I was the one who recruited you four years ago. But it's not your name anymore, is it? What do you say if we; as a practice; use your undercover name? Would you prefer Daniel or Danny?"

"Doesn't really matter…"

"Danny it is then. So, to your other questions: Yes, we are a couple now and yes, we do live here. Have been for the last months, since we have both retired. Mallory has known it of course. As a matter of fact: he was the one to arrange this manor for us. And no, it was not an intrigue to get me out of the way and put himself into my place, if that's what you're thinking. I had been planning my retirement for a while, so I just took the opportunity when it came. Everything else was just for show."

"The same with me. All the excitement and the new speed of things just wasn't for me anymore. Leading Q-Branch is a very demanding role, as you have by now surely discovered. I had been doing it for over 12 years. It was just enough. I didn't know back then you'd be put in my place right away, without any assistance or someone to turn to for help first. I'm sorry if I didn't prepare you enough for that. And of course I didn't know the good old R would also resign soon afterwards, and leave you totally alone." – The old Major looked really regretful. It was obvious it had been bothering him for a while know. Q felt compelled to ease his old mentor's conscience.

"It's all right; I coped with the task by now reasonably well. Sure, it was not easy at the beginning, I admit, with the attack against HQ, the old R and the other colleagues leaving and having to manage Bond's ill-timed escapade alone, but… It has all turned out okay in the end, hasn't it? Everyone's alive and happy, Q-Branch is running successful and I have named a new R who is absolutely brilliant. I think all the minions – that means the Q-Branch employees – are content. No need to worry."

"Yes, but are YOU content? Do you have time to live?" – Asked M carefully, searching his face to detect the truth there, rather than in his words.

"Of course. I'm fine." – Assured Q as he took another sip from his tea, mainly to be able to hide behind his mug. It had always unsettled him how these two people had been able to read him. If he hadn't known better he would have thought they had some kind of kinship with the Holmes family, to be nearly as observant as his brothers.

And really: the adults both looked somewhat skeptical but fortunately must have decided not to press the matter for now.

"As for the agents knowing: no, they haven't been told about anything to do with us since we have retired. We are planning on telling them eventually, when the time is right, but not yet. We would appreciate it if you kept our secret for now."

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you, my boy. So, son, a different subject." – Began M with an air of authority he was so used to. It was a good, familiar feeling to have something that hadn't changed in all that inscrutable mess. – "We have talked it over with Mallory, and we know exactly what you're here for. As a matter of fact, we were the ones who discovered that the man was suspicious and needed surveillance. We decided together with Mallory to get you here and try it this way. We are therefore aware that you're here to do your job. You are a professional: the Quartermaster now." – She actually looked quite proud and old Q's face mirrored the sentiment. Q felt his cheeks flush. – "We will of course not treat you as a child. Just because you have to play the part at the school, it doesn't mean you really are one. You'll be free to come and go as you wish, just like you always have been around us in the past, too; you will naturally get a set of keys to the house and – though I doubt you need it… - the code to the alarm system. You may do whatever you want and feel totally at home here."

"Just please, inform us if you're planning on staying out late. We do worry about you, you know." – Clarified his ancestor.

"Yes, I would like to ask that too. And also: please, feel free to come to us with any problems you may encounter while you're here. Anything at all. We know your assignment, we would like to help you if we can. You can also come to us with any personal matter that has nothing to do with MI6."

"Just like the old days, son. We're here for you, so please, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you. It's very nice of you. I'll try not to bother you too much with my presence, though. I don't want to impose too much on your lives."

Ex-M looked mortified. "Son, you could never bother us."

Old-Q nodded. "Of course not, how could you think that? You have never been a problem before, and you are certainly not an inconvenience now or ever."

Q blushed even deeper but knew they were being honest: in the old days when Mansfield was M and Boothroyd was Q, the three of them (together with Tanner) had been some kind of mismatched family. Q realized now how much he had missed it all and suspected they might be happy about this opportunity to catch up a little bit too.

It would surely be an interesting mission, he decided.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

The next day, both adults were already working in the garden when Q walked out to join them.

"Hey, good morning, sleepyhead! Did you have a good night?" – Greeted old-Q.

"Oh, yes, the room is super and the bed is very comfortable. Thank you!" – To his surprise it was actually true: he had slept very well, without any nightmares. He crouched down to their level and looked down at the spot where they were weeding. – "What are you doing?"

"We're freeing these beautiful Ranunculus flowers from noxious weed."

"You're freeing the whats from whats?"

Both chuckled. "The RANUNCULUS. " – Explained old M. – "If you want to tell a lady you find her charming and attractive, this is just the right kind of flower to give her!"

"You mean I should give a girl I like a flower named LITTLE FROG? Wouldn't that be… I don't know… totally insulting?" – The boy looked so adorably skeptical that M laughed out loud.

"Oh, God, boy, not everyone is fluent in Latin you know!" – Smirked old-Q. – "But if you don't like them, you can also choose Lisianthus instead." – Indicated the old man at the white rose flowers nearby.

"What do they mean?"

"They symbolize among other things the joining of two people for life. It shows general appreciation for the other person and you're giving a good impression of yourself with them."

"I don't know; they look quite frightening to me… Good thing I don't have anyone to impress, I guess." – Joked the boy but the adults seemed to take it serious and sobered at once.

"Are you very lonely? Is someone taking care of you? What about Tanner; are you still spending a lot of time together, like you used to, going to restaurants and all?" – Pressed old-Q worriedly.

"Of course he's always there for me. Everyone is."

"I didn't mean being THERE like physically. I mean if there is someone to go to if you have a problem or a question."

"Yes, really: everyone, just like I said."

"But MI6 is not a really friendly environment to be in if you don't have someone close…"

"It's different now. We're a family." – stated Q simply.

"It's not different, son. We used to be family too: you, this old man here, Tanner and myself." – Contradicted old-M.

"And – for our part anyway – it hasn't changed a bit." – Added old-Q.

"Of course it hasn't for me, either. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you here, to know you're all right and together and to be able to be here with you for a while. But the family is extended now by quite a lot."

"For example?" – Ex-M looked very confused; not understanding who else could get close to the boy like that. She had hoped all the time she had been away that Tanner would continue to take care of the teenager but it had never occurred to her that others could step up to fill their places as well. She didn't know how she felt about it. One look at her partner let her know she wasn't alone with that sentiment.

Q seemed to be oblivious to all of their misgivings. "Well, Moneypenny for one…"

"The secretary? What about her? She was a nice young girl as much as I can remember but that's all."

"She's not 'nice', she is fantastic! She's a sister to all: taking care of us, making sure we don't neglect to actually live our lives between working for days on end; she is a great listener: you can go to her with any kind of problem, and she'll listen to you even if it's in the middle of the night or on her day off… She usually gives super advice, too. (Except now with the tattoo-thing…) She's funny and friendly, and smart and witty. She's great in helping you find presents for others or encouraging you to get in contact with old acquaintances. She's not afraid to stand up to anyone if needed, including M."

"She's a simple secretary…"

"She's so much more than that! And then there's M himself."

"Mallory? That swell-headed mutt?"

"Yes! Well… He's not swell-headed – most of the time – and certainly not a mutt. He's protective of everyone to the extremes. He forbade the agents to take unnecessary risks and has given me full power to do anything without limitation to make sure everyone comes back alive."

"It's not what MI6 is supposed to stand for!" – Exclaimed old-M scandalized. – "We don't pay the agents to be careful."

"We also don't pay them to commit suicide, ma'am. Why train someone for years just to lose them on their first mission?"

"It's for the Greater Good! For Queen and Country. That's what they're training for. There's a lot of them, new ones always lining up; they can be replaced. You might be too young to understand that yet, but you'll come to realize I'm right with time."

"NO! Nobody is replaceable! Not now, not in OUR MI6. On every mission, first priority is the safety of the agent, followed closely by success, of course. Sometimes it's a tie, but never anything else. We just have to prepare for everything in advance so that we can play it safe. I don't only give them gadgets to complete the tasks anymore; I also give them absolutely everything I can think of for maximizing the chance of survival."

"That's not cost- and time efficient." – Retorted old-M.

"Screw efficiency. It's about lives. Thanks to M, I've got a far more generous budget now. Not that it's ever enough but far more than what we used to have."

"You mean he actually managed to successfully lobby for more money for Q-Branch?" – Asked old Boothroyd in awe. That had always been his dream but it had never happened, however hard he had tried to reason for it.

"No, he didn't even try to. He just lets me negotiate it myself. Says that as a branch head I should have the right and the responsibility to stand up to our goals and aims."

"What? This is unheard of!"

"And he doesn't control how I spend the money."

"He doesn't require the Branch to write reports?"

"Of course he does. I always have to write a report after a mission – never before it though. I don't have to get the plans authorized first. And he never says anything about how much we spend or what I do to bring back an agent in safety. He lets everything slip as long as we maintain at least closely the success rate we have now. That's a 100% by the way. I have never lost an agent and we have still finished every mission to the satisfaction of everyone; except perhaps the enemy. I don't think they like us very much. Poor Alec said after our last Russia-mission he would never be able to go back home ever for fear they would want to castrate him for his 'sins'…"

"So in reality that means Mallory doesn't care one way or another and leaves you alone with your problems to solve them for yourself."

"That absolutely doesn't mean that. Every time there's a hard and risky mission, he's standing right behind me thorough the whole time I'm guiding the agent to lend at least moral support, even if there's nothing else he can do."

"What do you mean your 'guiding' the agent?"

"Well, I have developed a new system of mission-handling: I am in their ear the whole time. I hack into CCTVs, satellites even mobile phone cameras if I have to to be able to see and hear everything the agent can't. I'm their GPS, their extra ears and eyes, their consultant, their friend, protector and commander." – Q was actually very clearly proud about this.

"Commander?" – Ex-M couldn't understand anything. As if Q had been talking about a total different organization that had nothing to do with the MI6 she had led for years.

"Yes, I outrank all of them but M now, so I'm able to give orders and oversee everything. I'm constantly in close contact with them, I organize and oversee their training and I am the one who recommends them for next missions if I find their fit enough for it. A lot has changed since the two of you have left; the whole system of MI6 has been updated. After the attack on us nobody felt safe anymore, so M and I worked together to completely renew the whole organization. We got the Government's support, so we went for it and that's the result: our own MI6."

"Yes, I think I can see that now." – Grumped old-Q. – "I'm sorry for you if you have to work even more closely with the Double-Os than I had to. Even that was more than enough for me. They're all crazy!"

"No; they're all brilliant. They're brothers. Family."

"WHAT!?" – Asked to two adults simultaneously.

"My boy, I commanded them for nearly twenty years. There are quite a few expressions I would use for them but 'brilliant', 'brothers' and 'family' are none of them."

"That's because you don't know them the way I do, ma'am. With all due respect: you have always seen them as objects. Weapons."

"They are."

"No. They're not."

"Well, what are they then?" – Challenged Mansfield.

"People. Persons. Friends. Brothers."

"Oh, dear boy, what have they done to you?"

"Brian loves all kinds of guns and you can make him very happy just by giving him a new, improved pistol. In return, he'll bring me different teas from all over the word."

"You mean 001?"

"Right. And Samuel hates cold. I always make sure to equip him with extra warm clothing when he has to go anywhere that's colder than London, because it's more difficult to concentrate if you're uncomfortable."

"002?" – Guessed old-Q.

"And Jack is a real macho. He would spend all his free time chasing women if I let him. So I always order him home early the day before he is due to depart for an assignment so that he'll have a decent amount of sleep. Quite the contrary with Naban though. I have to particularly drag him away from the training field on some days just to enjoy some downtime and not work himself to death."

"003 and 004…"

"And Allan-"

"Who?"

"Allan Fleming…? 005!"

"Oh, I never knew his name…"

"Anyway. He would do anything for his sister, Mira. He's the only one who has a living family member and I always make extra sure to look out for her safety and give him regular reports without her knowing of course when he's away, so that he's able to concentrate on his job and not worry about her. It could distract him and it would be dangerous."

"That's why orphans make best recruits…" – Mused M.

"Or maybe that's why we just have to look out for each other… Anyway, Alec is a great teddy bear. Sweet-tempered as a five-year-old but fiercely protective if his loved ones are threatened."

"Sweet-tempered? 006?"

"Yes, well, of course only as a private person, not as an agent sent out to kill. And James is loyal to a fault with a twisted sense of humor. He likes giving me a hard time about my age and pestering me for an exploding pen. He'll naturally never get that and he knows it very well, but still. It's an ongoing joke and I let it go, as it eases tension and is actually quite fun."

"007 as a joker… Hard to believe! I only ever saw him sneer in malice."

"Then you weren't looking good enough, because he only does it when he's stressed, sad or angry. And there's Tiago of course, always insecure about himself, all the time looking for praise and approval. One good word means the world to him! He just wants to belong and be appreciated. He would do anything for a bit of acceptation as Tiago Rodriguez instead of 008. I always make sure to tell him how much it means to us to have him around and how we couldn't stand to lose him."

"That's really not your job, son. You're not their psychologist. If you think he needs it, you can have him admitted to the ward."

"He doesn't need doctors, he needs us; his family! I think he misses you very much, ma'am… And Peter too. He acts like nothing can faze him but it's not true. He's lonely and sad. He can't spend as much time in London with his best friend – 002 – as both of them want to but I always try to schedule them together for testing equipment and training. They both feel visibly better after that. In return, he'll bring me exotic plants to my flat and office from each country he visits. Not that I'm very good at keeping any of them alive but Eve Moneypenny is glad to help out with that. She even comes home to me to water them because she says what I do, if I do anything at all, could be considered as genocide against plants in general…"

"It sounds like you have very much to do. Are your subordinates adequate enough to take off you some of the pressure?"

"You mean my minions? That's what they're called now, and I am their 'Overlord'. Their idea, not mine." – Assured them Q smiling fondly though it was apparent, neither adult had any inkling what he was talking about, if the confused look on their faces was anything to go by. – "They're a great help of course but I can't leave them alone for long and certainly not with a difficult mission. They just haven't had enough time to learn everything that's needed to handle a Double-O assignment. For example, neither of them is really a hacker. Though Miller can hack some things, he's still not quick enough: when there is a mission going on, I only have mere minutes – sometimes _seconds_ – to find and enter from far away any cameras and microphones that are nearby and to 'jump' from one to another. If there's nothing, then I utilize a satellite or drone which can be risky… But I'm not complaining, they're learning fast: they have come up with own ideas for new gadgets already and we have started to actually work on them. It will give them more confidence hopefully."

"But why do they have to relearn everything?" – Old-Q didn't understand why his ex-subordinates would have developed a sudden amnesia and feared it could have something to do with them wanting to give the young boy a hard time for becoming Quartermaster so soon, instead of one of them having been promoted.

Q sighed and resigned himself to explaining.

"They're not RElearning. They're just learning. It's a completely new team. I handpicked all of them myself. It took me weeks of search and then days to negotiate. But there they are now and I am proud of them."

"WHAT? But why? What was wrong with the old team?"

The boy sighed again as if remembering something painful.

"Only that they all left. After the explosion that was centered in the old Q-Branch, we had a lot of injuries. No deaths, thank God but still… Before that everyone used to think we were tucked away inside MI6 HQ, kept safe… It turned out this was not the case. So after that, simply none of the old team wanted to come back. Especially not to the temporary Headquarters where we were confined to the dungeons, with not even a window to have natural light and no real equipment to work with. You can't begin to imagine what it was like to stand there in the bare and cold room alone, having just been made new Quartermaster myself, without anyone to turn to for guidance and holding the resignation of all the members in my hands… I still don't understand how I didn't snap back then to tell the truth."

"What? But I was still 'M' back then… Why wasn't I informed about it?"

"You had enough to deal with and this was my problem, I didn't want to burden you with that when you had your _life_ to worry about. And Bill had to look for and warn all the undercover agents about the danger, he wouldn't have had time to help with that either. Or if he had done it and this distraction would have cause one more agent's death I would never be able to forgive myself... Anyway; I've solved it. Now I even have an R who is substituting me even now and all of them are really brilliant and I just know they're going to be even greater with time. The new HQ is super high-tech and the Branch is totally like I had dreamed it to be! It was made all after my plans and ideas; we got the funding for it and all. It's like my own home."

"It sounds like I wouldn't even know what to do or where to go anymore if I were to set foot in there…" – Shrugged old-Q helplessly.

"Well, it would certainly be a surprise but I'm sure you'd manage." – Smiled Q.

"I'm sorry I didn't know about how hard it all was for you in the beginning, son." – Apologized old-M sadly. "I would have helped you find new workers and also with installing your new workplace, no matter what kind of difficulties I had to face myself back then, you shouldn't have been so alone with all that."

"It's okay, I think I needed to do it all for myself to really become the Quartermaster I have to be. Although I wish James hadn't had to go out that suddenly in the middle of the crisis just after all the equipment we had prepared for him had blown up. He wasn't impressed with just a gun and a radio and lamented about the 'new era' that was to come with a 'kid who still has spots' for the Quartermaster." – Q had to laugh at the memory of Bond's indignant look when he saw the gadgets he had to use. It was funny now, many months later but in reality he had been really worried and had felt guilty for not being able to give the first agent he had met in person anything more to protect himself with.

"They should be happy about anything they get and not have requirements."

"Hmmm…" – Was all Q had as an answer because he didn't agree but didn't want to argue either. – "Is it all right if I walk around a little in the garden? It's beautiful and I would like to see it all."

"Of course, go ahead."

The adults shared a look as Q got up and left towards the maze. They could see in each other's eyes that they agreed: the young boy was taking on too much responsibility and overworking himself. No wonder he was as skinny as a stock and looked to be half-dead on his feet. They'd have to do something about it.


	5. V Going to School is Fun, Right?

**V. Going to School is Fun, Right?**

 _When the Holmes parents had still been alive, they had held on to the hope that their youngest child would be the 'normal' one in the family. They had already accepted that Mycroft and Sherlock were hopeless cases when it came to social interactions and human contacts but sweet little Benedict who always had had a friendly smile and sparkling eyes for everyone had seemed to be doing so much better in this area. So, even though he was the cleverest genius of all three Holmes boys, he had also been the most probable candidate for becoming a normal human being and living at least a semi-average life._

 _Of course, these plans had all come crashing down along with the plane that had taken the parents' lives and left the small and injured two-year-old child in the care of Mycroft who had thought it a good idea to keep the little one out of harm's way by ensuring that he had been safely tucked away inside Holmes manor, out of reach of the society that according to him – and this sentiment was whole-heartedly supported by Sherlock – didn't understand them and wasn't prepared for superior masterminds like theirs anyway._

 _So, with that small Benedict had just about lost all chance at making friends, interacting with humans, learning everyday people's ways and everything that came with it. He had been, for lack of anything else to do, spending his days studying, learning more and more, becoming the cleverest person ever, working his miracles on his computer and thus earning more money than he cared to keep track of… but in this so to say virtual life he had been lonely and absolutely incapable of communicating normally with anyone. He'd never had any friends to play with, never had even so much as gone anywhere but to the library every once in a while when he really hadn't been able to take being inside the house anymore._

 _The boy was sure that, if he hadn't gathered his courage and drastically left everything of his old life behind at the tender age of twelve, seeking out MI6 and faking his own death so that his brothers wouldn't have a reason to look for him, he would still be sitting at home, totally ignorant of the outside world, wasting away with his steadily increasing amount of university degrees that weren't good for anything except for keeping his brothers satisfied with his progress._

 _As it had happened, Benedict Dominic Holmes had become simply Benedict first then just 'Q' later; and with his name getting gradually shorter and shorter he had slowly slipped over onto the other side of extreme: he now knew every Government secrets, was absolutely familiar with the world of espionage and could build lethal weapons with his eyes closed in mere hours any military organization would die to get their hands on. Most of his days were spent working on developing explosives, guns, modified cars and such things (99%) and his free time (1%) was spent among secret agents, Government members, MI6 employees or his extravagant brothers as company._

 _The only problem was: he had never had anything in between. He still didn't have a clue how to be just a normal, everyday teenager. He didn't know how to interact with anyone without a license to kill or a country to govern, didn't know what other sixteen-year-olds were up to these days or even how a high school system worked. He just didn't know how to be normal._

 _Now though, it seemed he was about to make up for missed experiences, whether he liked it or not. And the thing was: he couldn't decide how he felt about it all._

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Monday morning came far too fast for Q's liking. He didn't feel ready for his very first school day at all.

He got up at 6 AM, and stood in the middle of the room in despair. How did you prepare for something you don't know anything about? Q had never gone to school. He had been a few times in a school building at least, back when he had been a child and had taken the exams to prove that he had been indeed studying with his brothers at home and wouldn't remain illiterate (pff, as if it could ever happen to him!), but these occasions had always happened during the summer holidays so there had been no students and only the few teachers had been present who talked to him only for a couple of hours before deciding he was indeed capable of learning alone and giving him the 'okay' to continue the private education.

Q didn't know how to handle members of his age group, he had never even met them!

Also: he didn't know what to pack for school. Did he need to bring more notebooks or was one enough? He didn't intend to write a lot; didn't think he'd be told much new information anyway. And what were all these books for? Leafing through them, none of them seemed to be of any interest; it appeared to him like wanting to teach a mathematician the concept of 1+1… One glance into them told Q he would most probably be quite bored at school.

He didn't even have his timetable yet – Boothroyd had informed him the night before that he was to go to the headmistress first thing in the morning and he'd get it from her – so he'd have to bring everything with him the first day for lack of better solution. He would get a locker to put his books in, so he wouldn't have to carry everything around the whole day. Well, that was the general idea anyway.

He sighed, zipped in his bag that nearly tore under the weight of everything in it and exited the room. Downstairs he met both adults waiting for him with sparkling, mischievous eyes.

"Good morning! I have prepared breakfast for you. Come on, you still have a little time to eat." – Greeted him Mansfield.

"No, thanks, I think I'm too nervous to eat…"

"Nonsense, you'll need energy, boy."

"No, really, please… I need to hurry; I'll still have to talk to the headmistress before classes begin at 8."

"I'm going to drive you. On the way, I'll show you the bus stops you'll need to use to get to and from the school in the future."

"You really don't need to bother driving me, sir, I'll be fine."

"Of course you'd be fine but I want to do it. You can barely carry that bag of yours; I will not have you wait for the bus with this thing pulling down your shoulders. And so you really still have time to eat." – Q knew there was no place for argument anymore, so he gave in and consented to at least drink a cup of Earl Grey. Not that it was such a big sacrifice of course: he suspected he had tea in his veins instead of blood which he needed to resupply all the time.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Upon arriving and exiting the car ("Have a good day, my boy!" – yeah, sure…) he had to realize that the school building was… huge. And there were a lot of people: some of them running around, others greeting each other and talking in excited voices about their weekend. Others shared their plans for the quickly approaching summer holidays while their friends reminded them of the looming exams that predated any pleasure they might have been planning for the vacation.

It was everything very colorful. The students didn't seem to follow any kind of fashion trend or dressing code. Some guys had baggy jeans with enormous pullovers while others wore skinny jeans with very tight, pink V-neck T-shirts. Sneakers were a trend, though and Q was glad that at least in this aspect he could fit in.

And it was loud. Very-very loud. Even with him being totally accustomed and even immune to MI6's constant hectic and agents' extravagancy, this commotion instantly made his head spin. Did these people never want to hear their own thoughts? Did they even _have_ thoughts? He doubted anyone could think clearly in a whirlwind like this.

He looked around as soon as he entered the building to see if he could find any signs that would point him to the headmistress' office. But there was nothing. Everyone probably knew their way around already, except for him…

He turned to a girl entering next to him who was clad in totally black clothes, lace-up boots and had something that looked like a dog-collar around her neck and asked:

"Excuse me, could you tell me please where I might find the headmistress' office?"

The girl turned to him with a vacant expression on her face, clearly not understanding how a lowly creature like him could have had the courage to address her. Q could see she had three piercings: one in her left eyebrow, a second in her nose and another in her upper lip on the right side.

"What?" – She asked, but refused to take out the earphones to be able to properly hear him. Oh, but now he could see she also had a piercing in her tongue…

"The headmistress' office…?" – Tried Q somewhat louder this time.

"Leave me alone, you perv!" – And with a shove against his arm, she was gone, leaving Q standing there totally baffled. What had just happened; had he said something wrong?

He felt someone grab his shoulder and span him around roughly. He saw a very tall boy with similar style (black boots, black ripped jeans, white shirt and black jacket – also, a lot of piercings and an enormous silver cross hanging around his neck) looking down at him dangerously.

"You leave my girl alone or I'll kill you!"

"Oh right… okay… so I don't suppose YOU could tell me then where to find the headmistress, hmm?"

"Get out of the way, little shit!" – With that, the boy was gone, too. Was everyone totally insane at this institute? Why had nobody told him he'd be going to a reformatory school instead of a normal one?

He saw two girls walking towards him, talking animatedly and giggling madly at something but looking at least decently clothed. Hoping they didn't belong to any kind of sect that forbade them to talk to outsiders, he tried to get their attention but failed spectacularly: they didn't even spare him a glance as they continued on their way unaffected, only narrowly bypassing him in the last second instead of simply walking over him.

Next he tried to ask a boy who was so immersed in reading something on his phone that he walked into a pillar without even noticing it.

"Ahm… hello! I am new and I'm looking for-"

"There's one in front of the entrance."

Q blinked blankly.

"Sorry?"

"A Pokémon. In front of the school by the entrance. I just said."

"Look, I'm sorry but I really have no idea what you're talking about… I am actually looking for-"

"What do you mean you have no idea? EVERYONE knows Pokémon GO! Everyone!"

"Well, it would seem that there is someone who doesn't…" – Shrugged Q helplessly.

"Who?" – Asked the boy already engaged in his phone again, this time typing rapidly. Even Q had to admit he was impressed at the speed; it wasn't bad for an amateur at all.

"Me! But I don't really care about Pocket-somethings either. So, can you please tell me—"

"In front of the entrance. Try it. Bye!"

Q gave up trying to find help and decided to look for the office himself. It took him only a few seconds to calculate which way would be logical to take, given the fact that he was trained to think strategically. He soon managed to pinpoint a general direction that was the most probable for the office to be located in. If it had been a mission and he wouldn't have any more information about the outlay of the building, he would surely send the agent that way, he mused.

He was right; the office was exactly there where he would have put it, had it been him making the designs.

He knocked on the door and entered upon having been invited in.

The headmistress was a tall, sporty woman in her forties, with shoulder-long blond hair, black-rimmed glasses and a sour expression on her face. As Q introduced himself with his fake name and dates, he got the impression he might not be very welcome here.

"Mr. Coulter, please, take a seat. There are a few things to talk through before you begin your education here."

"Of course. Firstly I would like to thank you for taking me at such a short notice and so close to the end of term."

"Yes, well, it is not every day I make such a favor but your Aunt and Uncle told me about your situation. They explained you absolutely had to leave your old school and home and move here to them, so that if I didn't take you, you wouldn't be able to finish the schoolyear at all, and would have to repeat the semester."

"Ahm… yes…"

"I know about your behavioral problems and that you have actually been expelled from your old school."

"Well… ahm…" – Oh, great. No wonder she was not happy to have to take him! He'd definitely have to have a few words with his minions about how to create a decent background story for a mission. This was ridiculous, really…

"I want you to understand: I won't tolerate that kind of misconduct here. I'll be watching you like a hawk and if you step out of line just one time, you'll be out of here faster than you can blink."

"Of course, ma'am."

"I hope for your own sake that you'll really follow that advice because there is no other school that would take you after that."

"I understand."

"I hope so. Here's your timetable." – She stated and pushed a piece of paper over the table towards him. Q took a glance at it and mentally compared it with the Johnson children's timetables he had read in the files. He wouldn't have any lessons with Margaret but he'd share PE with Michael on Tuesday and Friday in the sixth period. Super, what was he to do on his first day then without being able to begin his work?

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Coulter?"

Q realized he must have been frowning and quickly schooled his face into a more neutral expression.

"No, of course not."

"I took the liberty to choose all your lessons because, frankly, there really is not much to do in the remaining two weeks. But I warn you, you will have to take the exams just like everyone else, so I suggest you make a good effort catching up with everything you might be behind with."

"I will of course do my best."

"I didn't know what foreign languages you have been studying this far, so I put in Spanish and German for you. These can be the only exceptions from the above mentioned rule: if you haven't studied them, you will only have to take a personalized test that will show the teacher you have taken the classes seriously and done your best. Nobody will expect you to learn a language in two weeks."

"Thank you, Spanish and German are fine."

"Next year you're going to be able to choose what you want to study like everyone else. Two foreign languages are a requirement though. There are, beside Spanish and German, also French, Italian and Latin to choose from."

"All right, thanks, I'll think about it." – Q couldn't care less about what languages he had been given. He was fluent in all the listed ones – among many others of course – and he had no intention of returning next year or even taking the exams in two weeks anyway. He only wanted one thing: to complete his task as soon as possible then go home, and preferably forget this whole ordeal right away after that.

"Mr. Coulter."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Is there something important I have not been told about you?"

"Ahm… I don't know what you have been told but I don't think there's anything important to be told about me…"

"Oh, but I think there is. For example: what were you doing that got you expelled from your old school so close to the term's end?"

The teenager had to frantically try and think of something because he had not been told what story he was to go with. A really sloppy work on the part of his minions…

He remembered 001 telling him once about how he had been expelled from junior high for…

"Fighting. I was fighting. With a classmate. On school grounds, in the afternoon."

"That's it? Fighting?"

"Well, yes… the classmate was the deputy's nephew…"

"I take it he was not expelled then?"

Q didn't have any idea. Dawson hadn't mentioned anything about his opponent.

"No, he wasn't. He was considered to be the victim." – That sounded plausible enough, at least to him, who really didn't have any experience with such things…

"Aha, I bet he was. So that's all there is to you? Nothing more to tell me?" – The calculating look she gave him rivaled those of the Double-Os. She had an air of authority around her that he had only ever experienced with trained military persons before. It was creepy to tell the truth and Q wondered whether all the headmasters were like that? Maybe it was in their job description… He had to admit, it wouldn't be a surprise with the students he had met this morning.

"No, ma'am. That's all."

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

The first lesson on Monday was Math. Q wasn't worried about it, since he had never had any problems with the subject and the high school material was a joke anyway. So he just sat during the lecture, half-asleep from pure boredom and staring out the window at the late morning traffic, imagining being back in HQ and working with his beloved minions on something that had importance and sense...

Sometime around the middle of the lesson the teacher, a stern-looking lady in her late 40s, stopped in front of Q's desk with a scornful expression on her face.

It took Q a while to take notice of her presence and of the sudden silence in the classroom. He slowly looked up and met his teacher's angry gaze.

"Mr. Coulter, right?"

"Yes Mrs. Smith. I am the new student." – Q was immensely glad he had taken the time to look up his teachers' names. This could have been a very embarrassing scene otherwise.

"May I see your notebook, Mr. Coulter?" – The teacher held out her hand.

"Ahm… my notebook?" – Asked Q totally perplexed. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why someone would want to see someone else's empty notebook.

"Yes, your notebook for this subject, if you would be so kind." – Q mentally shrugged and randomly fished out a notebook from his backpack to hand to her. He didn't expect to understand everything on his first day anyway; maybe it was some kind of a tradition here.

"This one has blank pages. I asked for your Math notebook. Are you disobeying me?"

"No, I'm naturally not disobeying. I only have this kind of notebook."

"It is the rule to have a quad ruled notebook for this class, Mr. Coulter. I thought it was a commonly known fact. This is definitely not unique in this school."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it mattered. I'm sure I'll be able to find an adequate notebook for tomorrow though." – Promised Q, trying to retain his calm and not get in a totally meaningless argument with a teacher right away on his very first lesson.

"I also don't see any writing in it. Did you maybe forget your pencil too?"

"Well, I have a pen here somewhere…" – Q desperately started to search in his backpack for the pen he knew he had dropped in there that morning in his hustle not to leave anything important at home.

"During Math class, you will write with a pencil, understood?"

"Yes."

"And as for punishment for not paying attention to the task I've given you, you'll come to the blackboard and solve the problem in front of the whole class. So, get a move on please, we don't have all day!"

Q sighed and walked to the blackboard. He hadn't looked at it before. Now he could see that there were long simultaneous equations written on it. To be exact: three; with X, Y and Z being the unknown factors.

The young Quartermaster wasn't absolutely sure what was expected of him but he thought they were waiting for him to give the answers. He looked back at his teacher for confirmation to make sure and when she impatiently tapped her left foot, he decided to give it a try. Maybe she'd be satisfied with him after that and forget the notebook-pencil fiasco.

Q took the chalk and wrote: X=123,231, Y=76,545 and Z=981,132. Still unsure, he asked Mrs. Smith. "Should I add more decimal places or are three enough?"

To his surprise, his teacher didn't seem content at all. Quite the contrary: she was seething with anger!

"Mr. Coulter, are you playing games with me? I asked you to solve the problems, not copy the answers from someone else onto the board!"

"What? But I didn't copy it!"

"And then why can't we see how you rearranged the equations and how you came to the conclusions? I can only see the solution."

Q was getting more and more confused. He knew the solution was perfect, he could even continue with the digits 'till the end of the world, so really, what was her problem? And why was the whole class looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head?

"I am really sorry but I have honestly no idea what you're asking me to do, ma'am."

"Out!"

"Excuse me?"

"Get out! I am not going to put up with your insubordination any longer. Leave the room and only come back when you're able to stop playing the fool with me and actually work during the lesson like everyone else."

"But-"

"Get OUT!"

So Q quickly gathered his things and left the classroom absolutely baffled, not understanding what had just happened.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

His next class was supposed to be English Literature in room 234. Clearly, that must mean second floor but other than that there weren't any more indications to help him find the classroom.

Q wandered around the corridors on the second floor feeling as if he had been trapped in a maze with no exit – or rather: in a nightmare. Even with the extra time he had gained by leaving Math early, he still hadn't found room 234 by the time the bell rang that, as he had learnt this morning, signaled the beginning of a new period: a lesson or the recess.

As chaotic as the corridor was during the break, it emptied and quieted with an unearthly rapidness upon the ringing. It was obvious that everyone else knew exactly where to go and typically no one was about to help him; asking for it had been again in vain. Q had been left standing alone in the middle of nothing, clutching his backpack and looking around helplessly.

When he finally found his destination, the lesson had already been going on for about ten minutes. As he entered, everyone turned towards him. It became so silent that the sound of a pin drop would have echoed loudly.

The teacher – Mr. Harringford, Q's mind supplied – a middle aged, bald man with gentle eyes and thick glasses beckoned him forward to stand in front of the class in clear display. ('You're the Quartermaster of MI6, for God's sake, pull yourself together!' – chanted Q mentally as he was being observed from all sides as if he were one of Sherlock's more interesting experiments.)

"And you, young man, would be…?"

"I'm Daniel Coulter, sir. It's my first day here and I couldn't find the classroom." – Some of his classmates snickered at that and he felt his cheeks burn with shame. He wished he had an earpiece with a friendly voice to supply him with useful instructions just like he always did for the agents during their missions. Now _he_ was the agent on mission so why didn't _he_ have any help? It was totally unfair! – "I am very sorry for being late and interrupting the lesson like that."

"It's all right, lad. I'm assuming you had Literature in the school you've transferred to us from?"

"Ahm… yes, of course…" – At least he was nearly certain that was the right answer to give. People in high school usually studied Literature, right? Of course the minions didn't think to provide him with information like that in the files about his alter ego.

"Then it surely wouldn't be a problem for you to tell us a few facts about Hamlet? If you're already standing out here."

"You want me to talk about Shakespeare's Hamlet?" – Q hadn't expected to be asked to speak in front of the whole class on the first day, but then again, he hadn't expected a lot of things that had already happened…

"Mr. Coulter? Are you with us? I asked you what other Hamlet do you think there is? Hmm?"

"Right. Well, I know someone who's named his hamster Hamlet… Ahm… No other. Sorry. ('Stupid, stupid, Q, PAY ATTENTION') So, well, Hamlet. Shakespeare's Hamlet… Yes. Ahm… It's a tragedy written at the very beginning of the 17th century. Set in the Kingdom of Denmark, it is about how Prince Hamlet takes revenge on his uncle Claudius for having killed his father. For Claudius murdered his own brother to be able to marry Hamlet's mother and thus get the throne. It's unique for his time because of focusing more on the person and feelings rather than the actions themselves. Hamlet's father appears as a ghost which is a typical element for-"

"All right, all right. So, you know what it is about. Good to know you have read it. Shakespeare's Hamlet, I mean, not the hamster. But can you quote from it? I start reading it out loud. Let's see if you can continue, shall we?" – There was more snickering from the students. - "So, here we go: ' _To be, or not to be_ …?"

Q thought a few seconds about it then began: " _To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die_ -"

"That's quite enough, Mr. Coulter. Not bad. But I don't suppose you could name us a sentence of the tragedy that reflects most on Montaigne's ideas?" (Someone among the students was nearly chocking from trying and failing to hold back laughter but Q didn't really care; in fact, he hardly even noticed anything around him anymore. His mind was already busy searching for the correct answer. It was finally a real challenge and he liked challenges.)

"Well, seeing that Michel de Montaigne was a French renaissance humanist, it should be something about the human nature… The whole tragedy revolves around the question of course but if we're looking for a single sentence… then it should be… hmm… Let me think… Maybe: ' _What a piece of work is a man!_ ' because it's part of a monologue that Hamlet speaks to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern about-"

"Thank you. You may sit."

"Right. I'll just take a seat then." – Resigning himself to having unintentionally done something wrong again, Q went to look for an empty seat and didn't as much as move for the rest of the lesson that unsurprisingly was about Shakespeare and Hamlet.

As the ringing of the bell signaled the end of yet another period, Q stood up from his place in the back of the room and started for the door behind the other students. His teacher's hand on his shoulder stopped him though.

"Mr. Coulter, a word if you don't mind, please." – Sure that he was going to be reprimanded for something again, Q just nodded and turned back as the room emptied. Nobody was there anymore save Mr. Harringford and him. Q wondered if he should be worried or even afraid. Did teachers still use corporal punishments these days?

"Sir, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry about?" – The teacher looked honestly confused about the apology. Maybe it wasn't customary here? Maybe it didn't have any effect whatsoever, so nobody bothered anymore? He wondered if he should extend his hands for the inevitable striking.

"Well, I don't know… I guess, for everything I did and shouldn't have done, and also anything I didn't do but should have done… It might sound a little confusing. Gee, I'm not good at this stuff. I'm just sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. You were absolutely brilliant! The look on your classmates' faces was priceless. I have never seen anyone reacting like that to having questions unexpectedly fired at them. I must admit I was testing you and you exceeded all the expectations!" – Q refrained from mentioning that this was an expression he usually reserved for a flawlessly working piece of technology and not for satisfying results produced by humans. But what would he know about manners anyway? And the teacher certainly sounded genuinely proud, he wouldn't have wanted to ruin his mood anyway. – "Are you a Shakespeare expert?"

"No… But I like reading his works."

"And you also happen to learn them by heart, along with the history behind them and any connecting works?" – Q didn't know the adequate answer to that, so he opted to not say anything. He couldn't very well say the truth: that he only had to read something once to remember it literally forever so it wasn't much of an accomplishment for him to quote Hamlet when he was asked to do it. – "Well, it's all right. We all have our secret talents I guess. What 'stuff' did you refer to what you're not good at?"

"At generally behaving like a normal human being I guess. You see, sir, I'm a freak. Even my b- sister says so." – Corrected Q, remembering his story.

"Is your sister also at the school?"

"Oh, no, no. Two of us would be more than what the school can take, believe me. If I'm a freak then she is the queen of freaks."

"Can she recite Shakespeare?"

"No, I even doubt she has ever heard of him. Or if she has, she might have already forgotten it – well, _deleted_ is the more passing expression. You see, sir, She has a way of just erasing everything from her mind she doesn't find useful. But I bet she could tell you at least 120 ways to kill someone without getting caught."

Mr. Harringford gave a hearty laugh at that, probably thinking that Q was joking. (If he only knew… Sherlock had once written an article with the title '128 Ways of Getting Away with Murder'. Q had a sneaking suspicion Hollywood would make it a major motion picture soon.)

"You, boy! You are something. I like you! I just wanted to tell you that if you have any trouble finding your way around the school, or if you have any questions at all, you can come to me any time. My office is right beside this room and I am usually either in there or preparing for the next lesson here. Please, don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it. I had to change schools once when I was a teenager and we moved away; I know it's not easy."

"Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, and I mean it really. I'd be glad to help. Na, off you go then before you'll be late for your next class, too."

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Q managed to get through his next three lessons without major catastrophes. 'Major' being the key word, meaning that nothing had exploded, nobody had fallen out of a window and he hadn't (yet…) gotten expelled from school. That was all the good he could say though. Because in Chemistry, he got chewed out for 'not paying attention', in History for 'not taking notes about the French Revolution and again not having an adequate notebook' while in Biology for… he didn't even understand what.

It all started when at the beginning of the lesson the students had to pair up for a task: dissecting a frog of all things. Q really started to feel like he had just stepped out of an American family-movie. He hadn't thought these things were real but made a mental note to tell Sherlock about it as soon as the 'top secret' ban would be lifted. He'd have a field day with it…

Well, he of course remained alone as nobody wanted to join the 'scrawny new kid with glasses and a mop of bird's nest on his head instead of trendy hair' – 'trendy' for boys meaning at that school, as Q realized, slicked back with so much gel that it shined like a lightbulb. The bitter truth was: nobody wanted to be with the new kid, period. They had made it quite clear, they were a tight-knit group with no need for an outsider to join their ranks and disrupt their dynamics. (It, in turn, reminded Q of his nightmare and made him hope desperately there wasn't really a school anthem he could be made to sing in front of the whole school…)

Luckily, it was just as well for Q. He'd always worked best alone and even now he'd finished in record time with his task. Then the teacher told him off for not taking notes of his findings. Q was very confused as to why he should take notes of things that didn't surprise anyone, because really: what new revelation could be found inside of a frog? Well, but if that's what they wanted then that's what they were going to get… Thought Q as he scribbled down a few totally basic and widely-known facts about the anatomy of amphibians and presented it to Mr. Norwood.

Next thing he knew he was being reprimanded for 1. copying from others because there was no way anyone could do this afterwards out of memory, and 2. using google on his phone because no normal sixteen-year-old knew technical terms like 'Esophagus', 'Peritoneum' or 'Oviducts'.

By the time the bell saved him, Q was absolutely hating the word 'normal' and fuming about the notion that according to the teacher's ramblings, it would have been more than acceptable for a teenager to have a mobile phone with internet-connection; there had really been no need for M to deny him that.

And then maybe he could have hacked the security cameras located inside the school building to navigate his way through the corridors or at the very least use GPS to find the lockers. As it was, without any help from his beloved electronic devices, it took the better part of the 30-minutes lunch break for Q to find his locker. His back and shoulders were already beginning to ache from carrying around all his books all day and he was dying to finally get rid of a few of them that wouldn't be needed anymore.

Now, the only problem was trying to open it… Q did everything he could think of from the traditional approach of using the key he had been given to it (absolutely unsuited for the task if you ask him), through kicking it and swearing at it in three different languages, to even naming it (Bruno – because, well, Moneypenny had been right, he did have a tendency to do that) and pleading with it to obey. But even that ultimate and aside from now always effective trick abandoned him this time, so the youngest Quartermaster of MI6 and computer/technician wizard was just standing there like a kicked puppy, having a staring contest with his locker that stubbornly refused to be affected by it in any way and still didn't budge.

"Having a problem?" – Q span around to find a girl standing beside him (for how long she had been there, the boy had no idea), with amusement sparkling in her eyes. (So, most probably for a while…)

"Oh, no, not at all. It's my normal method of gaining respect, you know: I always break down resistance by applying the silent treatment."

"Oh, really. And who's winning?"

"Well, we're still at it because this one is proving to be a difficult case: very persistent, but I think just a few more weeks like that and then we may call it even."

"It's a pity you're doing so great on your own; I was just about to offer my assistance."

"Oh, by all means, go ahead. I'll just have to demonstrate my powers on the bicycle lock instead."

The girl just laughed at him – and for once it was not a condemning smirk designed to hurt but a playful, friendly one that warmed his heart – and picked up his abandoned key from the floor he might or might not have thrown down in a sudden fit of rage. She inserted the key, turned it to the left, back to the right and again to the left, while giving the door a push and then tearing at it suddenly. It sprang open and Q blinked impressed.

"That's the trick, you know. Don't worry, we all used to have problems with it at first. You'll learn it soon. It's your first day, right?"

"Yeah, and thanks. Hey, you're in my Chemistry class, are you not? You're… ahm… Annabel ?"

"Exactly! Wow, I wouldn't have believed you payed attention to anything at all. You looked like you were asleep."

"I always pay attention to the important things; it just might not be the covalent bond." – He said and the girl blushed. 'Oh God, Q, really… _flirting_? That's not what you're here for! Concentrate!'

"You're nice. What do you have next?"

Q quickly checked his timetable. – "Spanish, room 101.Providing I can find it."

"Well, it's just up the stairs, to the left. The building can be confusing at first as well, I know."

"Tell me about it…"

"See you on Wednesday in Chemistry?" – Bless her, she even looked hopeful. Q might just have found the only person at this school who wasn't repulsed by him. And it must have been the compensation on Fate's part for all the horrible things he had gone through that it would be a funny, witty, smart and absolutely beautiful girl…

"Of course, I can't wait. Maybe we'll even hear some highly interesting new facts about equilibrium constants."

"Well, if we do, then I certainly hope you'll help me with them, 'cause I have never heard that expression before. On the upside: at least everything will be new and interesting for me." – That's it, Q was officially in love now… 'Stop it, you moron!' – He thought.

"I might as well, I'm indebted to you for opening my locker anyway. See you then!" – Wednesday couldn't come soon enough and Q feared he might not be able to wipe the silly grin off his face until then.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As it happened, his grin was irretrievably gone by the fifth minute of the Spanish class.

The teacher, who had them calling her 'señora', obviously had nothing Spanish about her at all – not even the real knowledge of the language. She kept messing up the conjugation of the verb 'dar' and even insisted vehemently they copy her mistakes into their notebooks.

Q didn't see any use of writing charts anyway, so he just kept silent and began to work on the schematics of a new handgun he wanted to develop for 005's next mission. It had to be, as always, personified, so the handprint-analyzing system had to remain of course but it had to be able to be fired underwater this time and so the handle should be more-

"Mr. Coulter, am I _possibly_ boring you?"

"Ahm…" – He had the whole class staring at him again. It was quickly starting to become a habit here, it seemed… Was it prudent to be honest in a situation like this and tell her that he would rather jump off a bridge or slit his own wrists than sit here and listen to her horrible pronunciation of an otherwise beautiful language, or was it all right to tell a white lie once in a while even if you're not in a life and death situation right now but sitting in high school as a simple student? With a little bit of consideration, he decided not to hurt her feelings after all. – "Nooooo…?" – As a matter of fact, she _was_ , but well…

"No? Well, that's good to hear, I would have hated for you to have a bad impression on your very first day here." – Q thought it was already too late to impede that but wisely chose not to voice this fact either. – "So, Mr. Coulter, maybe you would like to give us the _pretérito pluscuamperfecto de indicativo_ of the verb 'poder' in third person?"

Q tried to ascertain from the reaction of the others if she was joking or if she was being totally serious. By the way everyone seemed to suddenly find their exercise books very interesting he concluded that it indeed wasn't supposed to be funny. So, better not laugh at her then, he wasn't Sherlock after all, he could adept to social expectations to some extent… Even if he wasn't as good at cunning as Mycroft.

"The pretérito plus… what of the what, señora?" – He asked totally dumbfounded. How came he spoke several languages fluently, including Spanish of course, and still never had heard about this plus-something… whatever it was?

This time nobody even dared to breath, let alone snicker. Q could hear a fly trying to escape through the closed window as it kept bouncing back on it, getting steadily more desperate to flee. 'Great, not even an insect will stand by me.'

The teacher gave him a very false and forced smile that rather resembled an evil smirk. – "The _pretérito pluscuamperfecto de indicativo_ of the verb 'poder' in third person, dear, if you please."

Q totally didn't 'please' but he luckily had some Latin-knowledge – well, actually, that was quite an understatement as it was one of the languages he was fluent in – so he proceeded to analyze the question from that perspective. If he was not fully mistaken in what this terribly long terminus technicus could mean then it should probably be…

"Había podido?"

"Are you asking or stating?"

"Stating."

The teacher checked her notes before giving him an exterminating glare and declaring:

"Right, it is. But next time: pay attention!" – And with that the class breathed again (good thing, too, he wouldn't have wanted anyone to pass out on his account), she continued the lecture as if there hadn't been any interruption to it and Q went back to drawing the outlines of the new gun with increased energy. The fly still hadn't given up and Q made a mental note the let it out once the lesson was over. Nobody deserved to be a prisoner in a place like that after all.


	6. VI To Be or Not to Be

**VI. To Be or Not to Be, That is the Question**

When Q finally got back to the manor, he was exhausted beyond belief; as if he had orchestrated a joint mission of 006 and 007 for the last three days straight. And that was certainly saying something.

On the way upstairs the old-M (whatever she said, he couldn't bring himself to think of her as 'Olivia') tried to engage him in a talk by asking about his day. He apologetically shook her off with a – hopefully polite – "fine, thank you" and a "Sorry, but I really have a lot to do." as soon as she mentioned food. (Or as he had come to refer to it in his mind: 'the dreaded F-word'…)

Upon entering the bedroom that was meant for his use for now, he shut the door firmly and then let himself fall fully clothed backward on the bed. He just lay there, enjoying the silence, watching the ceiling and trying to forget everything about the school – save for Annabel, of course. The only reason he didn't go rouge by disobeying M and simply breaking into his target's house to get the documents was the knowledge that he wouldn't see her ever again if he did it. He knew it would eventually come to a goodbye forever of course, but he was rather looking forward to seeing her again on Wednesday, and wasn't ready to give up on that just yet. The only problem was that until then he still had to go through the whole Tuesday and half of Wednesday…

Staring at the ceiling of the bedroom made him remember sneaking out to the roof of their home as a child in the middle of the night to watch the stars. He had always liked lying there under the sky, looking out to the Universe, trying to see thousands and thousands of lightyears ahead, as if time had increased its speed and the future were nearing and nearing… He had thought back then that he had been sneaky enough to fool his brothers but by now he had a feeling they must have known about it all the time and for some reason allowed it to go on. With their combined observation skills it was nearly impossible to fool them… well, 'nearly' being the keyword, as he had done it once of course by faking his own death… He wondered if they had ever fully forgiven him? If not, would they someday? Did it matter to him if they wouldn't? He didn't know the answers.

As a small child, he also used to imagine he could be invisible and fly through the sky, free to go anywhere he liked. He had thought about how he could float around the world, observing people without them noticing him. Nobody to judge, nobody to have expectations… Just him in his own world, alone but not lonely, all-seeing and totally free. He had always wondered if maybe that's what death was like. Right now, he was wondering again: was that what his parents had now? Absolute freedom and infinite knowledge? And if yes, would he wish to join them soon to have that too? He didn't know that either.

He must have fallen asleep during his musings because the next time he opened his eyes, he could see the moon shining through the window and the room was absolutely dark aside from the pale moonlight that sneaked in.

He would have liked to just climb under the blankets and continue his sleep but he sadly hadn't been lying when he had said he had a lot to do: getting new notebooks was impossible by now but that didn't mean he shouldn't do homework at all. Writing it on inadequate paper should still be way better than not writing it at all, he reasoned.

He had to smile at the irony of it all: he would never in his life have thought he'd need to do homework, let alone when he was already the Quartermaster of MI6, and legally an emancipated adult who normally lived in his own flat, built lethal weapons and led missions worldwide. The way teachers had behaved with him during the day made it seem even more surreal. Apart from the brief period he had had to deal with 0011, 0013 and 0014, he was used to being respected as a leader with highest authority rather than the child he had to pretend to be now, under the 'command' of the 'wise adults' who 'knew better'. It was frustrating to say the least.

Thankfully he didn't have to think much on homework – it was all totally simple and meaningless stuff, nothing his half-asleep brain couldn't handle. Glad that there was nobody to reprimand him this time, he could finish it even quicker and pack everything for the following day. He could already see his next day wouldn't be any better with Math (again… brr…), Grammar, Geography, German and Physics. The most important class was going to be undoubtedly the last: PE. He was supposed to have it together with his target's son so that would be a possibility to get to know him and learn something about his family. Q just hoped he wouldn't be too angry or upset by that time to be able to pay attention to the important details.

Just as he was finishing he heard a soft knock on the door. He turned around but didn't get up, just waited to see if the person outside would come in without being invited. The knock sounded again, this time a little bit louder but still soft enough not to wake him if he were really asleep. Q remained very still and held his breath until he heard footsteps and the opening and closing of the door next to his.

Only then did he drop a pen and a pencil (the latter for Math of course…) into his bag, zipped it up and made himself ready for bed.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q**

"I'm worried about that boy." – Stated Olivia Mansfield, ex-leader of MI6 and currently surrogate mother to the troubled teenager sleeping in the room next to theirs, as soon as she entered their shared bedroom after her – yet again – unsuccessful attempt at speaking with the boy. – "He doesn't eat, he doesn't talk to us, he doesn't even leave his room…"

"I know what you mean. He's totally not the happy little kid that used to be my apprentice and everyone's all-time favorite resident genius." – The old Q sighed sadly at the memory of a very skinny and tiny 12-year-old boy with an incredibly messy dark mop of curls and black-framed glasses running around Q-Branch with wide, sparkling green eyes and far too baggy clothes for the first time, trying to take everything in at once. The child had looked as if the labs had been his own version of Disneyland. Then he remembered the same kid just a few months later becoming his right-hand man and most trusted helper. The Q-Branch members had adored him and let him tinker with all the gadgets. It was a challenge getting the child to eat and sleep at least sometimes, he had always gotten so engrossed in his little world of work. But he was happy. Always happy. – "Where has it gone so wrong?

"I'm afraid it's all my fault." – Sighed the elderly lady with unshed tears in her eyes. – "When you left, you suggested I make 'your' R your successor but when he also expressed wishes to soon leave us, I was in a bad situation. (Even if he neglected to confess that 'soon' meant right away…) It was not long before the explosion, we had already been threatened and Mallory had been breathing down my neck for awhile back then. I was sure that no other Q-Branch member was up for the job: usually technicians are not your average leaders after all. I had neither the time nor the energy to start looking for someone from outside, besides: it would have been impossible to get an outsider the necessary security clearance in so little time and we couldn't remain without a Quartermaster for long. The boy was there, he knew the systems and all MI6 back and forth, he was good – hell, he was the BEST – at his job and had also repeatedly proven before that he was very much capable to make hard decisions, deal with people and I knew he could operate flawlessly under high pressure and didn't get afraid of stress-situations. The co-workers loved him and even he didn't have any objections. If anything, he seemed happy and excited about it. No problems with security, or getting him an approved home or anything of that sort. It seemed to be the perfect solution, however unprecedented it was to have a then barely 16-year-old made head of an MI6 branch. Now I wonder if I haven't ruined the most brilliant person by rushing him through things he had not been ready for."

"I admit I was a little bit surprised when you told me later you had hired him for Quartermaster. It is a very demanding job and I thought it could be too much for a teenager to handle. The responsibility for the missions' success and the agents' lives… But you surely haven't 'ruined' him! For one, I hope to God he's not ruined at all, and secondly: there has been a new M for many months now. If there's a problem, it's up to him to solve it. All we can do for him now is be here if he wants to come and talk to us."

"I know. It hurts though to see him so unhappy."

"Yes, it does."

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

The next morning, Q woke up too late. He had to rush through his morning routine, dress in haste and quickly gather his school things, including his required equipment for PE. He nearly forgot his Physics book because he had left it out the night before on the table.

He ran down the stairs, taking two-three at a time and landed with an undignified "puff" at the bottom. The two adults looked at him amusedly.

"Na, you're finally behaving your age, young man." – Laughed old-Q and patted his shoulder admiringly. – "I didn't think you were capable of it."

"Come on, son: breakfast! You're too skinny as it is." – Scolded him ex-M good naturally as she tried to usher him into the dining room.

Q shook his head. "Sorry, I've really got to run. I'm already late." – And with that he promptly exited the house, leaving the two others looking after him worriedly again.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Q had luck and could just get to the school bus just in time. The other students who had been waiting at the same stop were already getting on when he arrived. Q hurriedly fished out his ticket and showed it to the driver on his way in.

As he was looking for an empty seat, he heard something that caught his attention: one of the passengers mentioned 'the Johnson twins' during his speech. Q looked at the direction where the sound came from, and then he saw: his target's children, Michael Johnson Jr. and Margaret Johnson were sitting at the far end of the bus in the middle of a smaller circle of students. It was easy to spot them because they really looked very much alike. Michael was also easily recognizable as the football team's captain: he wore the team's T-shirt, had slicked back his blond hair and radiated the confidence of a prince. Margaret was really beautiful but Q found she also a bit 'too much'. ('She has nothing of Annabel's casual elegance and honest nature.' – He thought) Their friends – actually more like admirers to tell the truth – surrounded them and seemed to compete for their attention, trying to outshout each other and widely gesticulating in front of their faces. Damn, these two must really be popular.

The teenager thought it would be as good a time as any to try and get to know them or at least listen in on their conversation to learn more. It might even be better than PE where he would most probably have to concentrate on not making a fool of himself… (And since he just knew he would fail anyway, he certainly would have a harder time paying attention to his original task while being taunted and ridiculed.)

So he deliberately chose the nearest possible seat to the rather rowdy group and tossed his bag onto the bench before sitting down next to it himself. He was near enough to hear everything that was being said, even when – for some miracle – they weren't shouting.

He tried to see who their friends were and to assess what kind of an impression they made, but it was difficult without being able to turn back to properly look at them. But alone their conversation let him have a bit of insight into their dynamic thankfully.

"Father said we would travel to the Riviera for the summer." – Stated Margaret Johnson proudly. As if on cue, the 'fans' gave a collective 'wow' at that. – "I wonder if I should buy a new bikini for the vacation."

One of her girlfriends squeaked at that.

"Oh, can I come with you to the mall, Marg? Can I?"

"I would like to go too!" – Another friend hurriedly piped in.

"Of course, girls, I will need your opinion on the matter." – Assured them Margaret quickly and all the three girls started to giggle madly.

"Are you really going to go away for the holiday and leave me here alone?" – Whined another girl and Q watched in the reflection of the glass (pressing his facet o the cold window while doing it and wincing at the icy feeling) as Michael Jr's girlfriend all but climbed into his lap. Q had to keep back a disgusted growl at that. Really, didn't they mind they were in public?

"I'm sorry, Barb', it was Mother's idea. She wants us to go together as a happy family and all. But it's only going to be for three weeks or so, not a big deal." – Apparently, it was a big deal for 'Barb' because she continued to whine and sniffle for good two minutes that followed. Michael mostly ignored her aside from a few strokes to her hair. He was actually petting her as you would do with a cute puppy. Didn't the girl feel abased by it? Didn't she have dignity? Well, apparently not…

Q had an idea why their mother had insisted they go abroad… mostly as far away as possible from Michael Johnson Sr's secretary, presumably. Well, that meant he had to work quickly. They hadn't mentioned when they would travel, but school would end in two weeks and that only gave the teenager a very short time-frame to proceed with his investigation.

He would have to make his move soon.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Classes were awful again: the Math teacher still didn't think that giving absolutely correct answers was a decent way of solving mathematical problems, though refused to help Q understand what she really expected him to do. He didn't have any problems with Grammar – Mr. Harringford still seemed to particularily worship Q for his Shakespeare knowledge from the day before and left him mostly to himself. In Geography, he was made to introduce himself to the whole class as the new student, and was interrogated for minutes about why anyone would start in a new school just two weeks before the summer holidays. Q didn't have a prepared answer for that and had to make up a believable lie while half of the class was evilly snickering at him, with the other half being asleep. German went smoothly: for once he had a very capable teacher, Herr Hermann Günter, who was native German and didn't speak much English at all. He was nice and very approachable, and he was very impressed with Q speaking German fluently and without any accent at all. He held him back after the lesson and tried to pry out of the boy which of his family members was of German ascendant because according to him there's just no way anyone could learn a foreign language like that.

In Physics they spoke about the solar system and the gravity on different planets and its effect on humans. It was one of Q's hobbies and he was really excited about the subject but then soon had to discover he would learn nothing new about the topic but would have to listen to totally uninteresting facts like how a Synodic period on Mars was exactly 779.96 days long and don't they dare forget this number or even think about saying 780 days instead because it would most definitely come up in the end of term exam. According to Miss Phils, the teacher, Q wasn't enthusiastic enough when taking notes and asked him to repeat the length of said period. The teenager felt irritated for being called up again – really, what was it with every teacher always nagging HIM? –, and answered "Exactly 2,135 years or better yet: 18.719,04 hours, or you could say 1.123.142,4 minutes, maybe even 67.388.544 seconds" for which he earned himself a snicker from his classmates and extra homework from his teacher as punishment for his cheek.

And then finally, when the teenager was sure he would lose his mind altogether in that environment, the long awaited PE came. Up until now the only physical activity Q had been doing since becoming a high school student was a wrestling match with his locker the day before and now again in the morning. He had won in the end but he thought it would have been significantly easier with Annabel's help (actually, he had to admit, probably _everything_ would be much more enjoyable in her presense…) Well, but now he would have to concentrate on trying to talk to Michael Johnson Jr and make friends with him enough to be invited to his house in the following two weeks.

So he dressed himself in the ridiculous black cotton pants, dark-grey sneakers and white T-shirt with the school's logo printed on it. He felt very self-conscious: he had the smallest available clothes and they were still hanging on him as if he were a five-year-old boy playing dress up in his dad's closet. He looked around and found that every other boy was much bigger, and far more muscular; he was the only one scrawny enough to pass for a preteen. Suddenly he was very grateful for the fact that PE wasn't a coeducated class…

At the beginning of the lesson they had to run a few rounds as a warm up, do twenty push-ups and climb a rope. Q was for the first time ever thankful for the obligatory training he had to go through upon joining MI6 and for the self-defense classes Alec had insisted on giving him. Even like that, by the time he came down from the rope, he was seeing stars and swaying slightly. Remembering the incident on his first day in Stevenage, he hoped he wouldn't pass out right there in front of all the boys. He was sure he would never hear the end of it. That would definitely make an impression… But not the kind he wanted to make. He scolded himself for not eating anything for days. But he was just too busy…

Looking like a weakling had a benefit though as Michael Johnson Jr himself came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, kid, are you all right?" – He asked Q worriedly.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit out of breath, that's all. Hi, I'm Daniel Coulter by the way. New student." – Q extended his hand and Michael shook it.

"Michael Johnson. I heard we had a new one. I also heard you've had some problem with the teachers?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it's anything bad, just… I guess everything is very different here compared to what I am used to." – Q tried to look lost and pitiful because it seemed Michael had a protective streak to him. Given that he was still quite nauseous, it was not very difficult to manage.

"Are you sure you're all right? You look very pale."

"I had a cold a few days ago. I think it still might not have gone away entirely. I probably should have skipped today's class but I like any kind of sport very much and I didn't want to miss the first lesson." – Explained Q and then waited for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"Oh, you like sports? Do you play football?"

"Yes, yes, of course. One of my favorites!" – Lied Q easily. In reality, he had never tried it, given that he didn't do well with anything that required him to cooperate with others… He didn't understand how he could work so well with his minions and agents but he suspected it might have to do something with the fact that all of them were considered slightly lunatic and crazy. Q found to his surprise that growing up with his brothers had taught him to handle difficult, eccentric people much better than the normal ones with whom he didn't have any practice, nor did he have anything in common with them.

"You know, I am the captain of the school's football team." – Stated Michael proudly.

Q feigned surprise and delight.

"Really? Wow, that's marvellous. Congratulations!"

"Thanks. Would you like to watch our training today after PE? If you like it, you could maybe join in next time, when you're feeling better."

"That would be great!"

Right then they heard the teacher's angry shout:

"Mr. Johnson and Mr. Coulter! This here is PE and not your chatroom! Move to the next task this instant, both of you!"

"Oh, well, see you after lesson then." – Waved Michael as they both went to their respective places and proceeded with their sit-ups, Q having gained a new kind of energy upon his unexpected and sudden progress.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

After PE Q quickly changed back into his regular clothes and made his way outside to the football field. He didn't have to wait long for Michael Johnson to arrive, followed by other members of the team.

He watched them work on strategy and at the same time tried to assess Michael. He seemed to be very popular and so far Q found him fairly nice. In the morning as he'd been listening to them on the bus he had thought the Johnson twins were both spoiled brats but maybe it was just Margaret. Michael had been okay during lesson and behaved friendly with the others while directing the football training. Maybe it wouldn't be so frustrating having to befriend him after all.

He was also a good leader: confident and decided. That also meant he was clever and because of that, Q would have to tread carefully around him. Smart people tended to be more cautious and suspicious, especially if he knew of his father's antics. Which he probably did; there's just no way he wouldn't have noticed any funny business going on at home.

The teenager tried to use all his observation and deduction skills he had picked up from his brothers to learn as much about the Johnson boy as he could just by watching him interact with others from afar. The way the older boy was able to make everyone follow his lead without having to give actual strict orders or shout at people was remarkable, yet Q couldn't detect any kind of malicious intentions behind it. Right now it looked like Michael made good use of his ability as team leader but he had shown no signs of wanting to misuse this trait of him. But maybe Q just hadn't spent enough time with him for that to happen yet. Definitely something to look out for.

After finishing the training and saying farewell to his teammates, Michael went to join Q on the stands.

"So, what do you think?"

Q was sure to make a very excited and deeply impressed face.

"That was… wow. That's something I would really like to be part of."

"Well, you're welcome to join. Three of the members leave next year and don't come much to the sessions anymore because of studying for finals and such. We could use more people."

"I'd be glad to join! And I still have a few years here." – Q said teasingly and tried not to gag at the idea of more time at a regular high school. He was glad it was a total lie: he surely wouldn't survive more than a couple of weeks in a place like that.

"Cool. Trainings are on Tuesdays and Thursdays after the sixth lesson right away. As you saw: they last an hour and a half. And when the weather is not so warm, we're allowed to use the gym hall."

"That's super."

"Then on Thursday?"

"Of course. I can't wait!" – Actually, he could think of a number of other things he'd rather be doing… But everything for the mission, right?

"Hey, where do you live? I think I saw you on the bus this morning."

"Yes, I live in Stevenage, on the Hydean Way."

"Wow, that's a beautiful area. Did you just move in?" – Asked Michael as both of them started to walk back towards the changing rooms.

"Yes, I arrived on Saturday. I still haven't really had time to look around. I don't even think I would find my way home without the school bus taking me to tell you the truth." – That was not true of course; Q had memorized the map of the whole town before even setting foot out of the house for the first time. It was in his nature to do so and never be at a disadventage against any potentially lurking danger.

"So, you haven't been to anywhere yet? Not to a mall, not to a park… Nowhere?"

"No, I haven't been anywhere." – That was at least absolutely true. It was one thing to mark places like that on a map and a completely different thing to go there and actually have fun doing so. – "But I would like to!" – That wasn't so very true...

"Then we'll definitely have to remedy that. What are you doing tomorrow after school?"

"Ahm… nothing?"

"Wrong! You're coming with me and some other guys to the shopping center! And that's final." – With that, Michael disappeared into the shower and Q was left to wait for him to finish so they could walk together to the bus.

He felt a strange kind of triumph and also hope that he would be able to finish his job before the summer holidays started.

The next day would be better. No, it would be good. First, he would meet Annabel again in Chemistry and then he would go out with some "guys" and as disgusting as is sounded, it would help him get closer to his aim. Yeah, life was good. But first he'd have to eat-

His train of thoughts was rudely interrupted as two other members of the football team stepped out of the shower and looked at him with loathing.

"What is it, you scrawny little kid? Are you a stalker or what are you standing here on your own for?"

"Maybe he is into guys and wants to watch us shower?"

"That's not a peep show you little shit!"

Q was totally disdained.

"You're both out of your minds! I'm just waiting for someone."

"Aha, of course. The only one in there is Michael Johnson, and there's no way he would even stop to talk to a broom stick like you."

"I'm afraid It's actually none of your business." – The computer genius started to get angry. What did these two brutes want from him? Couldn't they see he was busy with his thoughts? Well, maybe it would be impossible for them to recognize something they didn't have own experiences about.

He only realized he had said that part out aloud when he was grabbed and unceremoniously tossed into the wall by one of the super-idiots.

"Hey, he called us… something! I'm sure it was insulting!"

"What did you say?"

Q had never ever encountered people like that before. He didn't really know how to deal with stupidity and tried to remember what his brothers had taught him. Sadly, Mycroft's method of just ignoring them as "fish" clearly hadn't worked, and Sherlock's proceeding of verbal insults wouldn't do him any good if these cave men had problems with basic English and wouldn't understand a word of it anyway.

He decided to play it nicely and attempt to set the matter peacefully.

"I'm not looking for trouble, all right? There's really no need for you to threaten me and smash me into walls. It's quite a rude thing to do, you know."

That had clearly not been the right thing to say, because…

"I told you he was insulting us! He called us rude!"

"Oh, yeah? Then I'll show you rude you wimp!" – And with that both of the teenagers attacked Q at the same time, trying to beat him up.

They didn't expect the bony boy who was approximately third their weight to have self-defense skills rivalling a black belt karate master's of course. Q was just glad that this time (opposite to the situation with 0011 and his cronies) he didn't have any reason to hold back. So it didn't take long for both gorillas to be lying on the floor, whimpering with Q standing over them without even having a small cut or bruise from their encounter. By that time, Michael Johnson had joined the scene and now just gaped perplexed.

"What… How? My God!" – He exclaimed. Q opened his mouth to explain to him why he had to diminish the team's headcount by two (because they probably wouldn't participate in training this semester anymore…) when they heard an indignant voice from behind them exclaiming.

"Just what is going on here?" – It was a teacher whom Q hadn't met before. Not a good first impression to make, he realized.

"All four of you: march into the headmistress' office right now! Yes, even you two, Mr. McAllister, don't look at me like that. I'm sure you're not going to die. And today if it's doable, please!"

There was nothing more to say or do so the four boys (two guilty, one totally innocent and one… Q actually couldn't decide what he was) shuffled out of the changing rooms and made their way with hanging heads to the headmistress'.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

"I don't believe it. What a scandal. In my school! How dare you fight within these walls? This is a respectable school and I'm not going to tolerate this kind of behavior! – The headmistress had been ranting and pacing around the office for good three minutes now without stopping for breath and Q was starting to worry about her passing out soon if she continued like this for any longer. – "It's incredible, unbelievable, impossible, and… and…" – She seemed to have run out of adjectives.

"Inconceivable, preposterous, unthinkable, unimaginable…?" – Q tried to help her out with good intentions, honestly, but it was probably not what she had wanted from him because her scorn deepened further; if that was even possible.

"Don't you dare be insolent with me, boy! You of all people shouldn't sit here right on your second day. And for fighting at that! I have already been very lenient when I let you join in the last two weeks. That's unheard of but your Aunt and Uncle are very respectable people in this town and I felt compelled to help them out when they asked me. Don't make me regret it!"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry." – Q wondered whether he should tell her how he had been attacked and had had to defend himself. But then he thought better of it. Nobody ever believed him, anyway. They especially wouldn't believe him now, being the 'new kid' who had transferred to the school after having been expelled from his old one for fighting…

In the end, Michael was excused (fair enough, he really hadn't done anything) and Q and the other two were suspended from school for the next day. Q was mortified at that harsh decision and tried to reason his case.

"But, ma'am, really, I am new here, I can't afford to miss any classes!" – What he really wanted to say was 'I don't want to miss Chemistry' but he had wisely chosen another wording.

"You should have thought about it before you got into a fight, Mr. Coulter. You will be staying at home tomorrow and bring back that letter I wrote to your relatives signed by them on Thursday. And if they'll too punish you for misbehaving, then you take it with dignity, understood? I refuse to let you bring your disciplinary issues from your old school here and continue your criminal ways, taking other students with you spiralling down." – Now Q just about wanted to murder the minions for giving him that background. – "Now, off you go. I'll see you three on Thursday with the signed papers. And for God's sake, Mr. McAllister and Mr. Wright, stop that incessant whimpering. One would think you have lost a limb!"

Q knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he gave it up as lost cause and exited the office dejectedly. When he was about to close the door the headmistress called after him:

"Mr. Coulter: remember my warning! I'm watching you!" – Q wondered if she only meant his school behavior or also maybe something more, deeper with that threatening… She couldn't be suspecting something, could she?

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Outside, Michael was waiting for him, looking worried. He fell into step beside him as soon as the door closed.

"Hey, are you all right?" – He asked Q.

"No, I'm not all right! I am suspended for tomorrow. I'm afraid I won't be able to go with you guys after school." – He didn't even have to feign disappointment this time.

"It's okay, don't worry about it. We're planning on going to see a movie on Friday. That's even better because we don't have school next day. Will you come?"

"Are those two coming?" – The frustrated boy asked, angrily motioning with his head in the direction of the two theatrically suffering brats who had gathered a small crowd around them and were without a doubt complaining about him.

"Toby and Pete? Of course not. I can't stand them. They're real bullies. But what can I do, they're good at football." – Oh, trainings will be so much fun…

"Then I'll definitely come."

"And please, don't mind them, and come to the training on Thursday. I won't let them insult you." – He really, really didn't want to go but for the mission…

"Sure, I'll be there." – Q was in reality only sure of one thing: all his previous thoughts about food had gone up in the air. Now he wouldn't be able to as much as look at any kind of food without beginning to retch right away.

As they were walking towards to bus stop and during the whole ride, Q – very uncharacteristically for him but, he told himself, completely justified – launched into a tirade about how unfair the headmistress had been and besides: how ridiculously unjust the whole school life was. He ended his ramblings when they were just a few minutes from the stop where he had to get off with the question: "How can you stand that woman?"

"The headmistress? I don't really know her. She's new. She's only been here for about two months or so."

What? That was interesting…

"Oh? How come?"

"The previous headmaster, Mr. Stafford, had some problems and had to leave with very short notice. Probably thanks to alcohol, though they never said… Well, he left in the middle of term unexpectedly and so, in just few days, Mrs. Gibbon has been brought in."

"Just so, out of nowhere?"

"I guess… I don't really know."

"Well, they probably didn't have much time to recruit someone decent…" – Mused Q as he waved goodbye and exited the bus at his stop.

He decided that a little bit of investigation was definitely in order.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**


	7. VII Light at the End of the Tunnel

**Light at the End of the Tunnel**

Upon getting home, Q had to explain to former M and old Q why he wouldn't be going to school the following day and how they had to sign a letter addressed to them about his misbehavior. All the while his cheeks were burning in embarrassment and he felt like he would explode with anger. How dare that woman forbid him to go to Chemistry!? Didn't she understand how important it was?

Well apparently she didn't, if the letter she wrote was anything to go by.

"It says here that you seriously injured two of your schoolmates?"

"They were morons and attacked me first. It's not my fault they can't fight!"

"She also wrote you were 'cheeky, 'disrespectful', 'audacious' and 'bold'."

"She has a thing for synonyms. But she doesn't like it if someone knows more words then her. And she is unjust! And she didn't even try to ask what happened. She didn't care for the truth. She…" – And he went on and on.

The two adults listened to his ranting patiently and upon closer inspection they looked suspiciously to Q as if they might be…

"Laughing? Really? Are you two seriously LAUGHING at me?" – Now Q felt deeply irritated.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" – Started old Boothroyd but then had to stop to gather himself again. When he was able to stop the snickering, he continued. – "But honestly, my boy, you have to admit: it is a little funny that you managed to get yourself suspended right on your second day here. Who would have thought you could be such a normal teenager?"

"I'm glad to be entertaining you, but you're missing the point here! I have to go tomorrow! It's very important!"

"Why is it so important?" – Inquired ex-M with a raised eyebrow and with a decidedly amused edge to her voice.

"Because… It's just so that… There is a… It's for the mission! How am I to gather information from someone in the school if I'm not permitted to be in said school, hmm?"

"One day isn't the end of the world, my boy." – Placated old Q. – "Hey, at least we'll be able to do something together again!"

"That's a super idea, Major! Really, son, we haven't had the opportunity to show you around properly. We'll use tomorrow for a bit of an excursion. We're going to have so much fun!"

"Oh, Olivia, I can't wait. It's been so long we all could be together." – Agreed to the plan old Q.

Of course, Q remembered the time when the four of them (joined by Tanner) would spend whole days together, just watching television, playing cards and board games, going out to restaurants or walks in the city… He had to admit, he too missed these special occasions.

Their enthusiasm may or may not have had a role in it but Q had to admit: he was feeling a bit better about the whole thing now and was even, to some extent, looking forward to the next day.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

In the following morning, they got up early and prepared their backpacks. Ex-M made sandwiches for all of them (even though Q had insisted, he didn't want any), while the boys gathered the blankets, the sun protection cream and flasks for everyone, along with everything else they thought they might need. Boothroyd had even insisted on bringing his camera to 'capture all the fun'.

At around 8 AM they were already driving to their destination: The Cassiobury Park in Watford. It was a 30-minutes' drive, so Q had time to read through the brochure the former leader of MI6 now turned housewife had produced for him from some hidden corner of the house. (This surely didn't mean they were planning all along on taking him there, did it?)

Well, may be as it is, Q really couldn't complain: the last time he had wanted to go on an excursion had ended with him stuck in a laboratory with Sherlock for hours, hiding uncomfortably behind a desk, sitting on the cold and hard floor. Besides, this park really did seem worth a visit: according to the leaflet it stretched over 190 acres, with a lot of activities to choose from and a wide-range of birds, bats, deer, foxes and lots of plants to seek out and admire.

When they finally arrived and left the car behind, Q had to admit: it really was breathtaking. Everything was just so green and so fresh! One could really feel alive there.

"Well, what do you think?" – Asked ex-M with a knowing smile.

"This is AMAZING!"

"Well, then: what are we waiting for? Let's go and have a good time!" – Boothroyd didn't have to tell them twice, they were all already walking down the path that took them further inside the park.

They walked for a while surrounded by trees and listened to the birds chirping. It was all very relaxing, and Q couldn't believe that after his last – unsuccessful – attempt at taking a walk in a forest, he finally actually managed to do it here!

"You know, the last time a tried to do this, it ended with me spending the night locked into a laboratory, sitting on the hard floor behind a desk in the dark…"

"How did that happen?" – Asked old-Q with raised eyebrow while ex-M chuckled. While she couldn't imagine an intended walk in the forest ending up this way, she wasn't surprised by anything that happened to this boy.

"Well…" – So the teenager told them the story about his first – and most assuredly last – requested holiday when he had wanted to spend the weekend relaxing in a hotel comfortably but Sherlock had had a different idea altogether and had dragged him into a near-fatal adventure of investigation… - "So by the time we were let go by Scotland Yard, the weekend was nearly over and I had to return to work."

In the meantime, they had reached the place called Paddling Pools and sat down so that the two adults could eat their sandwiches while Q again refused any food.

Old-Q was roaring with laughter so hard, he nearly chocked on the bite he had in his mouth. Ex-M, who was the only one who knew everything about the boy's family and so could also put a face and history to the 'brother' the teenager had been telling about (it was no question for a minute to her, which of the two it would be), felt like her face would rip from grinning so broadly.

"Son, really, you actually _believed_ your brother when he told you it would only take two hours? I didn't know you to be that naive."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was stupid of me." – Q was giggling as well, now being able to find the humor in the situation he hadn't been able to see back then.

When the two had finished their meals and Q had finally succeeded in assuring them that he honestly wasn't hungry, they continued their way through the park.

Old-Q photographed the Model Railway with a lot of children sitting on it, and they watched the kids playing on the Playground and in the Bouncy Castle for a while.

Q felt a little sad at the thought of him having missed all of this as a child.

They walked over the Rustic Bridge and then along the Grand Union Canal to return to the main gate with doing a circle.

"You haven't told me yet anything about your brothers, son. How are they? Do you keep in touch with them regularly now?" – Asked Olivia not mentioning any names – she was still honoring his wish not to disclose any personal information about himself, not even in front of Major. Not that Q didn't trust him but he wanted to keep his two 'lives' as separate as possible so he was immensely grateful for her thoughtfulness and also for Major's understanding.

"They're fine. I don't really meet them much but we sometimes call or send an SMS… I don't know if they have forgiven me for faking my death and disappearing for nearly two years."

"I'm sure they couldn't be happier now that they know you're alive and all right. Nothing else should matter to them anymore." – Tried to assure him Major.

"Aaa, you don't know my brothers. They don't really work like that. Besides, I don't know why but every time we talk we only seem to be able to insult each other. I don't intent to do it or anything but I just can't help it. I don't understand it myself."

"Can it be that you, maybe unconsciously hold a grudge against them for the way your childhood turned out? For being lonely?"

"No! At least I don't think so… Oh, I don't know… Maybe? Do you think I do?" – He didn't want to be resentful! But what if he was?

"I think you will have to reflect on it when you'll have the time and then maybe try to talk to them about it. It might help."

"You may be right…" – They didn't mention it anymore but Q couldn't forget it. Maybe that was the reason he was trying his best to avoid them. Maybe that's why he always unintentionally hurt them.

He decided to talk to both of his brothers when this mission would end and do his best to remain calm and listen to them.

Before calling it a day, they drank café (Olivia and Major) and tea (Q) in Café Cha Cha Cha.

By the time they got into the car to drive home, they were all pretty spent but also felt freer and happier than they could remember. Q also couldn't quite pinpoint how it had happened but somewhere in the middle of the park he had ceased to think of them as 'sir', 'ma'am', 'old-Q', 'ex-M' or anything else but Olivia and Major.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

They got home around 16:30 PM, and Q went at once up to his room to take a shower. Right as soon as he finished, he heard a knock on his door. He hurriedly put on some nearly-respectable clothes and opened it. Outside, Major was waiting somewhat impatiently.

"Danny, someone is waiting for you downstairs." – He informed the boy with amusement shining in his eyes, and Q instantly got suspicious: even though the adults had said on his very first day here they'd call him Danny, he had never actually heard them use it before. It had always been 'son' or 'my boy', or a similar endearment.

He understood instantly it must have been someone from school and prepared himself for his role of the regular schoolboy. He'd just have to get rid of them quickly.

"Thank you, Uncle Alan, I'm going." – And with that he hurried down the stairs.

In the hall, talking amiably with Olivia, he found…

"Annabel!? What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?"

"But Danny, what kind of greeting is that?"

Q had the decency to look sheepish at the scolding from his 'aunt', and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Right, I'm sorry, Annabel, I was just very surprised to see you here, that's all."

"It's all right. I asked the teacher for your address. I hope you don't mind? I heard about what happened and I just wanted to bring you the Chemistry material we learnt today, so you wouldn't fall behind."

"That's very nice of you, young lady, I'm sure Danny appreciates it immensely. Don't you, Danny?"

"Of course, Aunt Mary." – Oh, how Q was going to chew her out for that later. – "It's very nice of you, Annabel, thank you. We should-"

"Go up to your room and study. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. Annabel, you are very much welcome to stay. I hope you like Italian dishes? I thought I'd make some Spaghetti Bolognese."

"I love it, thank you Mrs. Marshall!"

"Great, I'm going to call for you kids when I'm ready. Have fun until then with Chemistry!" – As she ushered them upstairs, Q managed to give her a withering glare without Annabel noticing. He knew very well what she was doing. To his annoyance, Olivia just winked at him and smiled.

'No, forget chewing out. I'm going to murder her for this', Q thought.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Once they closed the door of his room behind them, Q became very self-conscious. After all: he was alone with the funniest and most beautiful girl he had ever met, in his room that was a total mess (really, how could he have more clothes on the floor than what he had brought with him?) and that had a teddy bear sitting on the bed.

Of course, trust the girl to notice it right away.

"Is that your teddy bear?"

"Ahm… well, yes. I got it from my… cousin. Eve. She thought it funny to give me a toy."

"Oh, he's sooooo cute!" – Cooed Annabel. – "What's his name?"

"I'm not in a habit of naming stuffed animals." – Seeing her mortified expression, he added hastily. – "But Eve is. She named him Paddington Bear."

"What a creative and fitting name!"

"Right… shall we begin?"

"Oh, yes, of course. You know I was actually hoping you could explain this whole chaos to me, because I have to admit: I'm absolutely rubbish in Chemistry. I just don't get it!"

"I'll see what I can do."

They spent the time sitting on the bed (Annabel hugging Paddington Bear) while Q looked at her notes and copied them into his (still not replaced with an approved one) notebook. He explained the basics of Thermodynamics to her in a way that finally made her understand it.

"And so, you have it proved: 'Energy cannot be created or destroyed. It can only be transferred or converted from one form to another.' See, it's not so difficult."

"Wow, it's actually so much more understandable like this than how Mrs. Wellington explained it to us! Thank you so much for helping me!" – And with that she dropped the bear and hugged HIM instead and kissed him on the cheek!

Q was sure he would pass out. He tried to breath, he tried to say something or even move and hug her back… but he was petrified. And before he could command his brain to 'get the hell a grip and pull yourself together!', it was already over. Too soon for his opinion.

"Have you ever thought about maybe becoming a teacher?" – Asked Annabel totally serious, seemingly not aware of his inner turmoil she had caused with an act that had come visibly very naturally for her.

"What? Oh… No, I mean… No, I think I haven't. I don't think I know what I would like to do. I think I might… No, I don't know, really." – Super, and now he was stuttering like a confused first-grader. Very nice, Q, Mycroft and Sherlock would have a field day with that!

"I still don't know either. My mom wants me to become a doctor, but that would require a lot of Chemistry and well… it's just really not for me. Not to mention I can't bear to see blood. My dad thinks I would make a great lawyer but I don't know… I'm not sure I could study that much. My sister says to forget it all and travel around the world after graduation."

"How old is she; is she traveling?"

"No. She's 20 and works as an accountant."

They both laughed at that and Q realized he had already gotten over his embarrassment. Annabel was so nice, easygoing and laid-back, it was impossible not to relax and fall into an easy banter with her.

"You know, as a thank you for helping me with Chemistry, I would like to help you with something you don't like that much."

Q thought about it and then got a brilliant idea.

"Well, now that you mention it… May I see your Math notebook?"

"Of course, I love Math!" – She handed him her notes and he scrolled through them.

"Oh! So that's what she meant by 'rearranging the equation'!" – Really, why couldn't Mrs. Smith just show him what she wanted? It was so simple, he could have smacked himself in the head for not thinking of it. Though he didn't understand why anyone would want to write 4-5 lines about something that can be solved just by looking at it… but whatever rocked their boat was fine with Q. – "Thank you, now I'll be able to do my homework without getting in trouble about it afterwards."

"Well, I don't know how I helped but you're welcome." – Smiled Annabel kindly.

Just right then 'Aunt Mary' called them for dinner, so they put away their school things and went to join the adults in the dining room.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

In the end, they all shared a very good meal (with even Q eating half a plate of Spaghetti and stating quite seriously it was the best thing he had ever had), talking and laughing a lot.

Olivia and Major honestly didn't seem to mind having a guest over and behaved very freely and friendly around her as if having two teenagers dine with them were an everyday occurrence. It was all really very domestic and Q enjoyed it a lot despite himself.

After dinner Major offered to drive Annabel home as it had become late, so the three of them drove to her house. The two teenagers promised to meet the next week on Chemistry and Q and Major returned home.

In his room (and he really didn't know when he had started thinking of it as 'his' but somehow it had just happened) while preparing for bed Q thought back on the day had to admit: it had been one of the very best times in his life. He thought he would miss this atmosphere when he would return to his habitual life at MI6.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

The next day, Thursday, was the best Q had had in the school so far: His first lesson was Math again and thanks to Annabel, he now actually knew how to solve the equations the way that would make even Mrs. Smith satisfied. He had gotten the opportunity to demonstrate his skill at the blackboard and it had earned him a "Hm… not entirely unacceptable, Mr. Coulter" from his teacher, which, according to the others, was the highest praise he could expect from her.

In History he managed not to fall asleep this time and nod or shake his head on exactly the right places, so the teacher left him alone.

Next was Spanish, where he had actually gotten to say complete sentences this time and he had the feeling he had managed to gain at least some semblance of respect from the 'señora'. Or, at the very least, she didn't find anything to mock him about, which was actually all that Q wanted from her anyway. (Even if he suspected the real reason behind her silence could be the fact that she hadn't understood a word of what he had said…)

Music and Arts History was not something he particularly cared about, though he naturally had enough knowledge in the area to go by. He couldn't hold back the chuckle when the teacher, Mr. Baker, started to talk about – surprise! – The Fighting Temeraire by J. M. W. Turner. Really, it was just too hilarious! Expect that according to his teacher, it was anything but…

"Mr. Coulter, were you just laughing at this melancholic painting about the demise of everything old and the rise of the new era?"

"No, sir, I wouldn't think of it." – But in reality, he DID think of it and quite honestly: he just couldn't stop! ('Come on, pull yourself together, you're not a giggly teenage girl!') But it was no use, as he nearly choked from trying to hold his breath.

"Sadly, Mr. Coulter, it would seem you do find it funny…" – Began Mr. Baker angrily. – "Maybe it could be because you don't know anything about this piece of high art? Hmmm?"

"No, sir, certainly not. I – hehehe – have a very – hihi – thorough knowledge about this painting." ('Come on, Q, concentrate!')

"And may we all hear it then, please?" – Inquired the teacher and Q had a momentary flashback about sitting in the National Gallery in front of the painting and explaining to Bond how an old wreckage is to be hauled away for scrap… Oh, God.

"Ahm… Yes, of course… Ahm… It is a very _melancholic_ (hehehe) painting about the _inevitability of time_ -" – Q couldn't help it, he burst out laughing again, unable to continue the sentence.

"Pff, Mr. Coulter, this is less than adequate. Maybe you could tell me about what that _grand old warship_ could symbolize?"

"I… ('No, no, breath, don't laugh, you idiot!'), I… (Come ON!'), I… (Oh…) I'm sorry, but I think I need to go… go and visit… (hehehe) THE LIBRARY!" – And with that Q jumped up from his seat and particularly fled from the classroom, leaving everyone staring after him either in exasperated amusement, awe or – in case of the teacher – total horror.

The boy didn't miss much of the lesson (not that it was of any importance), because as soon as he closed the door behind him with a soft 'thump', the bell rang, so he knew he only had about ten minutes to pull himself together for Literature. He liked Mr. Harringford and didn't wish to anger him too. But really, it was surely not his fault the teacher had chosen exactly THIS painting of all the pieces of art he could have chosen from for today's lesson, was it?

Q had to wipe the tears from his eyes to be able to see the stairs properly.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

After Literature, in the long recess, Q went to the headmistress' office to give her the signed letter and to apologize for his (totally justified, if you asked him) behavior.

Upon receiving a 'come in, it's open' for his knock, Q entered the room. The headmistress was reading through a newspaper, chewing gum and resting her feet on the table. As soon as she realized that a student was standing before her looking dumbfounded, she slowly put her legs down and leaned forward on the table so that her elbows rested on the laid down newspaper, seemingly deliberately obstructing the view of the article she had found so interesting just seconds ago. Not that Q cared, really. He was absolutely sure nothing that amused her could be of any interest to him.

"Ah, Mr. Coulter. I was beginning to think you would ignore my precise instructions and wouldn't grace me with your presence today at all."

"I'm sorry, I've had a busy schedule until now."

"Well, it's all right. I trust you have the signed letter?"

"Yes, ma'am." – Q showed her the paper that held both his 'relative's' signature.

"And? Were your Aunt and Uncle very angry with you?"

"Of course. They were livid." – He answered, because it was exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Did they punish you?" – She asked with anticipation.

"Very cruelly so." – Two could play this game after all.

"That's good, very good." – She probably meant it as a dismissal for she took the paper into her hands again and waved Q off.

As the teenager was about to turn around to leave, he caught part of the article she was reading. It was about a sudden, unexpected death that had occurred two days ago in a paper mill factory in Scotland.

"What kind of an accident happened in that industry that killed the worker?"

"What?"

"The news about that man dying by falling down the shaft of-"

"It's nothing for you to concern yourself about!" – The headmistress actually looked slightly panicky as she tried to hide the paper from his view. – "You may go, Mr. Coulter. I'll expect better behavior from you in the years to come!"

Q just nodded and left, deciding to look into the matter and also to ignore Mrs. Gibbon's mistrustful expression following him until he closed the door behind him.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

High School level Computer Science was a great joke for someone who held the whole MI6's technology in his hands. Q finished his tasks for the whole lesson (writing basic codes for 'Excel' and demonstrating their correct workings) in under two minutes then proceeded to look up any articles he could find about recent factory accidents.

He began with the online version of 'The Morning Messenger' of course but honestly, it just made him even more confused: there was seemingly nothing interesting about the whole thing. Certainly nothing that should have warranted such a reaction from the headmistress.

Basically, it was just a few sentences about the director of a paper mill factory in Scotland falling down into the shaft three stories high without any known reason. The man had died instantly and the incident was labelled as accident though investigation was said to still be going on.

Well, Q had to admit, it was really a little bit weird. Maybe the director had been drunk? But the biggest question was: why had been his headmistress so very engrossed in that story? Why had she she felt the need to hide it from him?

The computer genius put his skills to good use and found at least ten other reports about it but honestly: all were just the same. Nothing interesting or new about it. Funny…

Q just shrugged. This headmistress was a little bit eccentric anyway, so maybe she didn't have any particular reason to be so secretive.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As promised, Q made his way after classes to the football field for his very first training ever. He had butterflies in his stomach that had of course absolutely nothing to do with him being anxious. The Quartermaster of MI6 wasn't afraid of such a mundane thing as football!

He was a little bit early, and there were only two other team members present: Michael as captain would of course arrive before others and was talking to a tall, lean bloke with slicked down brown hair slightly on the longer side. What was it with guys and hair gel at this school? He was also far more muscular then Q, making the genius feel out of place again. He was fit and – though he didn't look it – quite strong, so how come he couldn't be at least at the bottom of the healthy weight instead of his severely malnourished appearance? The world was just so unfair…

"Oh, Danny, it's good that you came so early! This is Norton." – Said Michael, motioning to the other with urgent movements.

The two boys shook hands.

"Hi, I'm Daniel Coulter."

"I'm Norton Ramsey. You must be the new kid Michael has been telling me about."

"Yeah…"

"Well, super, so now that we have the formalities behind us, we could start with something I have been thinking about for a while. It's a new strategy of sorts and I want to try it before everyone is here to see it; just in case it doesn't work at all."

They spent the next ten minutes or so kicking the ball with different force and angle to each other while Michael was observing and actually sometimes taking notes… and Q – to his honest surprise – found he was enjoying himself immensely.

The regular training that followed was equally good. Q found he could cooperate well with the others and for some miracle wasn't that bad with the ball either. He felt really free as he was running around on the field, doing all the exercises and completing the tasks with ease.

At that moment, it didn't even occur to him that before that this day, he had already had a laughing fit because of a totally not funny painting and a very kind praise from Mr. Harringford for his essay about Shakespeare's 'King Richard II' – things any other normal sixteen-year-old would experience and thrive for.

Q only knew that at that moment, he felt like he belonged.

After training, as they were changing clothes in the dressing room, Michael came to sit next to Q and Norton who were talking about some computer game. (Q of course had no idea about the particular game but he knew enough about computers in general to be able to impress his new friend.)

"Hey, guys!" – Began Michael. – "My parents are away for the weekend and I thought we could have a party at our house on Saturday. What do you say?"

"I say: fantastic!" – yelped Norton and gave a tiny hurray-dance that made everyone in the vicinity chuckle at his antics. – "We could celebrate the end of term."

"Super idea!" – Q's cheering was far more subdued, with his brain already working, overjoyed about how convenient it was: by having access to the Johnson's house while it was packed with half-drunk (or totally drunk…), dancing people, he had the best chance to sneak away to the study of Mr. Johnson and snoop around in there a little.

When everyone was dressed, they left the school. Michael and Q were walking a little distance behind the others, toward the school bus' stop, talking.

"So, your parents will go away for a holiday, hm?" – Askes Q as nonchalantly as possible, not wanting to seem too eager to get information on the family but also wanting to learn as much as he could without the other boy getting suspicious.

"Well, not exactly. My father is away on a business trip AGAIN; has been for a few days, actually. My mother will go out with her 'friend' on Saturday and only come back Sunday afternoon. It's always like that…" – Michael didn't look very impressed with his family life and Q felt kind of sorry for him.

"And what about your sister?"

"Oh, she… She's really nothing like me. Despite being twins, we're totally different personalities. She's very… how could I say… 'high society'. Money, clothes, power… these are very important things for her. Not so much for me though."

"So, you don't really spend much time together as a family then?" – Q tried to look sympathetic and simply friendly when asking that, all the while trying to figure out if the other could know of his father's foul plays.

"Well, there is that vacation they want us to go on together… Like a happy family. We do that every year. But it's just an act for the neighbors. In reality, we haven't been a happy family for… well, ever." – He looked so dejected, Q was starting to feel really bad about what he had to do: namely destroy their family even more. Provided there was something still left to destroy of course…

"I didn't know my dad at all; he died when I was very little." – That part was true. – "I still miss him from time to time." – That was not true… He missed him and his mother ALL the time.

"I miss him too, because he's never with us! He might be alive but he has his own life and his family doesn't fit into it. He gives us an incredibly amount of money, and that's it. For Mom and Margaret it's enough. For me, not so much. I wish I had a dad who cares about me and I wouldn't mind if we didn't have so much money. I wish he wouldn't always go to business trips to Scotland and who knows where…"

Q stopped walking abruptly. "Scotland?"

"Yeah, that's where he is now. Well, that's what he said, anyway… And after that, he'll go to Manchester before coming home. So it'll be another week or so before he returns."

"And when did he leave?"

"Three days ago. Why?"

"Nothing, I mean… I just heard the weather is not so great now there with a lot of rain and everything..." – They started walking again.

"Ah, he doesn't care about it. He spends all his time in a factory anyway when he's there."

"A factory?" – Q could barely conceal his excitement. It was a Scottish factory where the 'accident' had happened, and Michael's dad was in a factory in Scotland and the headmistress had been behaving strange about it, and… And it was certainly worth to investigate farther. – "What kind of factory?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Oh…" – This disappointment didn't stop Q from continuing of course. – "Your dad must be a very successful businessman then. To be traveling so much…"

"Yes, he is. He's the founder of the company Johnson and Co. that funds and supports promising researches and developments for a share of the subsequent profit."

"Like a patron?"

"Like a _what_?"

"Ah it's a… never mind. It's a very nice thing to do, most of the small firms and private inventors couldn't advance without outside help like that."

"Yeah… well. I'm sure it's super. But I don't want to do this! I want to be a professional football player or trainer. My father insists I have to go to Business School but I want to go to the UBSport. It's a mess. Every time we're together, we're fighting about it."

"So your dad is pressing you to do something you don't want to? That's horrible. Why is he doing that?"

"Because Margaret is hopeless, she takes after Mother too much. Everything is about fashion and parties for her, nothing else matters. She's not a bad student but she's also not motivated. So I'm the only one – according to Dad – who could take over the family business when he retires."

"And has he started to teach you things about it already?" – Q made the question to be light and joking but actually held his breath as he was waiting for the answer.

"No. I don't care about it." – ('So maybe he really didn't have a clue…') - "What about you? What would you like to do when you graduate here?"

"When I…? Oh. Well… I really don't know, I have never really given any thought to it. I'm not particularly good at anything."

"That's not what I heard."

"Why, what did you hear?"

"I was told you're brilliant in every subject once you are willing to pay attention long enough to understand what the teacher is asking you to do."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone. It's not every day we get a new student here. Especially not so close to the year's end. Everyone is talking about you."

"Gee, thanks, that really makes me feel better…" – The boy rolled his eyes exasperated. Attention was the last thing he needed now… - "But honestly, I just don't know."

"Well, you have plenty of time, you're still only sixteen."

"Yeah, I guess."

They had reached the bus stop by now and so joined the others in the line.

"You shouldn't rebel so much, you know." – Continued the older boy.

"What?" – Q was too distracted by his calculating mind to pay much attention to the conversation anymore that held no interest to the cause anyway.

"People think that's why you're doing it." – Misinterpreting Q's confused expression, he explained. – "The laughing fit in Music and Art's? It was hilarious by the way, a friend of my girlfriend nearly chocked when she was telling us about it. And the fact that you just refuse to buy adequate notebooks… And correcting the Spanish teacher, in fluent Spanish, with an innocent face? You're the king, that's true. If you continue like this, you'll be epic. Everyone's hero. And by any means; do it if that's what you really want. But don't do it if it's only meant to be revenge because you had to come here and leave your old school and home behind."

"I… don't really know what to say to that." – These students had nothing on his brothers in regard of deduction: he wasn't doing that out of resentment. He really wasn't, was he?

"You don't have to say anything. Just think about it. I know I'd be sad if you got yourself expelled and had to leave."

Q was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the bus and everyone crowding to get on as quickly as possible.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

When he got home, Olivia was talking on the phone to someone. As soon as he entered she informed brightly whoever she was speaking to: "Oh, he's just arrived." – And with that she thrust the phone into his hands unexpectedly and left the hall with a knowing smile on her face.

Hallo?" – Asked Q carefully when he was left alone, not knowing who could be on the other side of the line.

 _Well, hello, my boy, how are you feeling?_

M?

 _Of course, who else? I'm just the guy you should have called days ago to give a report to. –_ Luckily, M actually sounded more amused than angry. _\- But I guess you have been too busy with football training and some girl called Annabel, hm? –_ Q felt his cheeks turning red and was immensely glad M wasn't there in person to see him.

We were just studying Chemistry, sir.

 _Oh, I'm sure there was chemistry all right._ – Q could particularly see his satisfied smirk and knew he had most probably walked into a trap from which there was no way out. So he wisely chose to just ignore the comment. – _And what is it I hear about you getting into a fight, beating up two of your classmates-_

They're not my classmates, just two idiots from football with pea-sized brains-

 _-and getting suspended for a day?_

I'm sure Olivia is not actually supposed to tell you everything about what I'm doing, is she?

 _So it's just 'Olivia' now?_ – Again that smug tone…

Ahm…

 _So, what is it like with them? Are you being taken care of all right?_ – M was much more serious now and Q understood they were nearing business.

Yes, sir. Everything is fine. Olivia and Major are very nice and they explained the situation to me… I understand that under the circumstances she had no other choice but to disappear and cut everyone off; and I promised not to tell anyone about it until it's time for them to know.

 _That's very good, thank you, my boy. I was afraid how you would react… And what about school life, how do you like it?_

It's… different. I've never been in an environment like this. People are strange…

 _Why? How are they strange?_

I don't know… they just are. Or more probably I am the strange one. I don't understand them most of the time. Like I'm from some other kind of species… From the species of freaks. – It was meant to be a joke but Q wasn't sure he had succeeded in making it sound like that.

 _Are you not feeling all right? Are you uneasy? Don't you feel safe? Do you want to come home?_ – Now Q knew he hadn't managed to sound reassuring at all because M's voice was positively worried now and was implying – as much as a regular phone line without extra security would permit – that he should maybe abort mission and return to HQ if he felt he couldn't do it anymore.

No, sir, I'm really fine, I'm not uneasy at all and I feel of course safe. I can finish school year here. I actually think I'm close to finding what I'm looking for.

 _Well, all right then. But I want you to know that nothing matters: if you've had enough and don't want to stay there anymore, you don't have to._ – The boy felt his throat tighten suddenly and it was with difficulty that he finally managed to answer:

Yes, sir, thank you. It's fine though, really. I promise to try and call more often.

 _Don't worry about it if you're having a good time. But call me as soon as there's any kind of problem or if you just want to talk, all right?_ – Q nodded even though M couldn't see him.

Thank you. Bye.

 _Just relax and enjoy yourself, son. Bye._

It was just a few hours later when Q was lying in bed about to fall asleep that he realized that M hadn't asked anything about the mission, not even in coded words. He had only asked about _him_.


	8. VIII Just Like a Normal Teenager?

**Just Like a Normal Teenager?**

The next school day went very smoothly, considering. Q had never had any problems with Mr. Harringford, so Grammar wasn't an issue and the boy counted it as a good start of the day.

Drama class was fairly interesting once the teenager managed to find the correct room (thankfully just in time for the beginning of the lesson). They watched certain scenes of a movie called 'Bright Star' about the life of the poet John Keats. Q found he liked the film a lot and decided to watch the whole thing when he would have the time. (So, probably never but well, one was allowed to hope…) It also reminded him that that day after school, he would go to the movie theater with his friends for the first time ever. Not that he was excited about it or anything, but still…

Sociology followed after that and Q noted with delight that it was another lesson he shared with Annabel. They sat next to each other and giggled through the teacher's passionate lecture about today's young people's less than adequate attitude to life in general. Mrs. Wilson expressively mentioned the both of them as the perfect examples for total lack of self-control and the sad absence of respect for elders. Annabel blushed in embarrassment and Q had to duck under the table to pick up a non-existing dropped pen to not burst out laughing again thus angering the teacher even further. It wouldn't do for everyone to really think he was really doing it deliberately. It was not his fault this school was just plain ridiculous!

For their relief the lesson finally ended without any more catastrophes, and just before leaving for the next period, Q turned towards the girl who was already packing her things into her bag.

"Hey, Annabel, would you like to come to the movies after school with Michael, me and some others? I have no idea what we're watching but it could be fun…"

"Of course, I'd be glad to come!" – Her honest delight filled Q with infinite happiness and he particularly danced his way to room 5, miraculously finding it right away. He might even have started to whistle at one point, though he would never admit it of course.

Economics was spent with checking last year's GDP of UK and comparing it with other countries like US, Germany and France, calculating possible future changes and listing reasons behind them. Everyone was totally engrossed in this task with the exception of Q who just rolled his eyes at the falsified statistics that were fed to them (' _A steady and incredibly quick economic growth with gradually decreasing unemployment?_ Honesty… And they say I'm naive! Mycroft would choke on his favorite chocolate cake if he saw that statement actually written in a book.') and proceeded to plan the afternoon instead.

What to say on a first date? Was it even considered a date if you had others there as well? What should he wear? Oh, forget it; he didn't have time to change anyway… Was he looking all right? Would she know he had never been to the cinema? Would he make a fool of himself?

The bell rang just as Q was starting to panic and the feeling followed him all the way to German class. Herr Günter had to call his name two times before Q realized he was even in the room, then started to apologize in rapid German until the teacher finally stopped him and said he had only wanted to tell him to please start doing the task they had been given a good five minutes ago and that everyone else had already been working on.

PE was a good distraction: by the 100. push-up, just after having done 120 sit-ups he was absolutely sure he wouldn't be able to walk a steady line anymore and probably wouldn't make it to the mall at all, so he at least wouldn't get the opportunity to humiliate himself. Yes: positive thinking. That was exactly what he needed at a time like that. And a bit of more air into his lungs too, please…

As they were waiting for their turn to climb the rope, he wandered over to Michael and informed him:

"Hey, I invited someone for the outing today, I hope it's all right."

"Of course. Who is it?"

"Annabel. Annabel Worthington.

The other boy's eyes widened upon hearing that. "You mean THE Annabel?"

"What do you mean THE Annabel? How many Annabel Worthingtons are going to this school?"

"Only one, that's exactly it. She is beautiful, she is smart and everyone – literally EVERYONE – has tried to get a date with her but she'd just not interested in us. Well, it looks like she has made an exception with you... How did you manage to even talk to her?"

By that time they got to the rope and started climbing next to each other.

"Actually, she was the one who talked to me first…"

"Wow. Just. Wow. Well, of course she can come. My girlfriend will be there, too. I tried to talk her out of it, but… she wants to come, what can I do?"

"Why wouldn't you want her to come?"

"She's a bit… you know… eccentric. And very clingy. She's also very jealous of everyone I talk to."

They had reached the ceiling and paused there hanging on the rope as Q tried to understand.

"I thought you liked her. She's your girlfriend! Why would you want to be with someone who apparently irritates you?"

"To tell the truth, I don't even know how we got together… Mother approves of her because she's from a wealthy family. And Margaret likes her, too."

"Doesn't sound like a valid reason to date someone… You should have a girlfriend _you_ like, not other members of your family!"

"I just-"

"Mr. Coulter and Mr. Johnson! I hope you two are having a great time chatting up there! Maybe you would like me to send up some refreshers for you as well? Want some music with it? Lest you mind everyone else who is waiting for their turn down here." – Shouted the teacher crossly at them from beneath.

The two boys rolled their eyes and hurriedly made their way down, Q still trying to come to terms with why someone would want to choose their partner based on their family's opinion instead of their own.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As agreed, they all met up in front of the school with those who wanted to come with them to the mall. When they arrived, some were already there: Michael's girlfriend was one of them. The older boy discreetly made a face at Q showing his lack of enthusiasm with the whole scenario before making his way towards the excited girl to stand next to her, kissing her as a greeting. There were three other boys and two girls. Annabel hadn't arrived yet and Q wondered if she had maybe changed her mind. Would she do that? How would he feel about it? Disappointed? Relieved? Both?

He needn't have worried though because she soon came running toward the group. The three boys noticeably gaped and Michael's girlfriend seethed as she stepped up to Q, hugged him and apologized for being late.

"Sorry, I had History last and I think I must have fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the French Revolution…"

Q just patted her shoulder in sympathy.

"Quite understandable; who cares about some dudes plotting in The Jeu de Paume Room?"

"Hey, I was awake for _that_! I lost track somewhere around the storming of the Bastille."

"What about the August Decrees?"

"No idea what they are."

"Then I estimate you must have had at least good thirty minutes of sleep."

"So that's why I feel so rested now."

"Let that be the solace for when the concept of the 'Great Fear' will be redefined during the test you'll have to write about it next week."

They both laughed at that, momentarily forgetting they weren't alone. The others looked like they had seen an unexplainable apparition.

"So, now that we are complete, may we go?" – Asked one of the girls impatiently, and they all agreed, slowly coming to terms with the 'new guy' having already gotten himself a girlfriend while most of them hadn't managed it yet at all. And not just _any_ girlfriend for that matter but _the_ Annabel whose attention every one of them had been hoping to capture somehow. Life was just unfair…

Their team made its way to the bus that would take them to the Stevenage Leisure Park which was a big shopping center that also held the CineWorld.

Q had never been to a mall quite as big as that before. He tried not to look too dazzled as the others led him with deliberate strides to the part with the movie theater, obviously already knowing the whole complex by heart. There were so many people, so many colors and smells and it was just dizzying. Q felt like an alien among all these people for whom it was notably an everyday occurrence to navigate around places like that. He thought if he were to remain alone in this building, he would most probably never find his way out…

"Hey, you all right?" – Asked Annabel, looking slightly worried for him.

Q schooled his expression to what he hoped was reassuring.

"Of course. I have just never been here. I'm new to the city, and haven't had time to come yet. I'm trying to see what kind of shops there are here, to decide if it's worth to…" – Q tried to remember what Tanner had said about teenagers' habits. – "… to come and just stroll around and look at the displays some other time."

"Well, if you want to, we can come back another day and walk around in less hurry. I'm sure you could find interesting things here."

"That would be great!" – Q was sure the most interesting thing was standing right next to him and with her near nothing else would hold his attention for long but he didn't say it out loud of course.

They arrived at the movie theater and looked through the possibilities. There were a lot of films to choose from, and it was a mini-argument as everyone started debating over which one of them to choose. Well, everyone except for Q who didn't have any idea about movies and didn't mind anyway and Annabel who didn't seem to care as long as she could sit next to Q (and probably either laugh all sleep through the whole thing).

The boys all wanted to watch Star Trek Beyond while the girls would have liked a more romantic or funnier movie, like the Ghostbusters or Bad Moms. The boys soon declared in a non-debatable way they would rather die than watch a 'chick-flick' and offered the new Jason Bourne as a compromise. They settled on it, because the boys liked action and the girls liked Matt Damon and Vincent Cassell so it was a win-win situation for everyone.

Michael and Q volunteered to take care of the tickets while the others bought popcorn and drinks.

Q was totally in awe at everything! He had never seen an action movie and had no idea what the whole Bourne saga was about but he marveled at how close it all came to MI6 and its operations. He stored a few ideas in his head for future use about possible new technology while others featured in the film were just plain ridiculous but also very funny to watch. Maybe he could apply some of them as an April Fools' Day's hoax in HQ the next year! The Double-Os always pranked him so it would be high time to get back to them…

He even tried – after some nagging on Annabel's part – two or three pieces of popcorn but he didn't like it and nearly chocked on them. ('How can they eat it the whole time without suffocating?')

When the movie was over they set down in a café to talk a little bit about the movie ("Damon was BRILLIANT!" – "I didn't find it exciting enough, I liked the old ones better." – "Well, I liked Vincent best." – "I liked the car chase." – "I liked his EYES."). They also decided they'd come back next week to play bowling and then proceeded to plan tomorrow's party at the Johnsons.

"Of course, everyone present is invited" – Declared Michael proudly. – "Arrive at around six; everything will be ready by then."

"I'll bring beer" – Offered one of the boys.

"Will there be music?" – Inquired a girl.

"What about food? We could order a few pizzas!" – Suggested someone.

Everyone kept talking at the same time and Q's head started to spin, trying to keep up with them all. Were they always that noisy?

"Are you going to the party tomorrow?" – Whispered Annabel to him, leaning very close to be heard over everyone else.

"Ahm… yes, I guess I am. I already promised and all…" – Stuttered the boy, praying he wouldn't blush.

"Would you like me to come?" – Q thought about it. Strategically, it would be the best if he were alone; that would give him more of a chance at finding enough evidence to finish his work soon. Strategically, he had to operate alone to be as efficient as possible. Strategically…

"Of course, please, I would be very happy if you were there." – Who cared about strategy anyway?

As they were leaving and navigating around the small round tables to get out of the Café, Q thought he saw a familiar woman in ridiculous clothes jump up and quickly dash to the nearest toilet as if fleeing from something... or someone. How odd…

"What is it?" – Asked a confused Michael, seeing his friend stop abruptly and crane his neck to be able to see better over the heads of the others.

"Hmm?" – Q was still distracted, trying to find an explanation to what he thought he just saw.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"What? Oh, I just thought I saw someone I know. But I was wrong. It's nothing. Really." – Because there was no way their headmistress would be there, following them in disguise and listening in on their conversation, was there?

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As soon as he got home at around 10 PM, he checked to see if Olivia and Major were still awake. He knocked gently on their door so as not to wake them should they be already sleeping. He quickly received a 'come in' though, so he opened the door and stepped into their private room.

"Hey, my boy, have you just arrived home?" – Asked Boothroyd with real interest instead of ire the boy might have expected after staying out late. Then again, they had promised not to treat him like a child...

"Yeah, a few of us went to the mall to see a movie."

"And did you like it? What did you see?" – Inquired Olivia.

"Jason Bourne. It was interesting. Gave me a few ideas about new gadgets I could try to create. May I ask the two of you about something?"

As if sensing it was serious, both turned fully to him and motioned Q to sit down to them on the bed.

"Of course, son, you know you can ask us anything."

"What do you know about Mrs. Gibbon, the headmistress?"

"Not much." – Answered Olivia thoughtfully. – "She was only made headmistress around seven or eight weeks ago when the previous headmaster suddenly called in sick and resigned."

"But didn't she imply you knew each other? She told me she only allowed me to begin here so close to the end of term out of respect for you."

"She did? Well, we certainly don't know her at all. When Mallory called us with the plan we simply went in to her and asked. We told her the same story you were given and explained how important it was for you to be brought here as soon as possible."

"Hmm… And didn't you find it kind of funny that she would just appear out of nowhere at the most convenient time, right when the other headmaster just so… disappears?"

"Surely she didn't just pop up from under the Earth. I assume she was called here to fill in the vacated post. Why, what's wrong?" – Major frowned at him, and regarded him from over his glassed as if wanting to see right through him.

"I don't know if anything is wrong, I'm just trying to investigate in all directions. You know that she was called or only assume?"

"Assume. My boy, we, until very recently, had absolutely nothing to do with that school. We didn't really pay attention to the details. The hiring of the new headmistress was announced in the local newspaper; that's how we learned about it. Just like everyone else. We're no spies anymore."

"Ma'am, I thought you used to say: 'once a spy, always a spy'." – Smiled Q.

"True, but not to the extent where we're suspicious of all our neighbors."

"She's our neighbor? Do you know where she lives?" – Q perked up right away and looked so hopeful that Major felt sorry to have to destroy his good mood.

"Son, Olivia didn't mean it literally. We actually have no idea where she lives."

"Oh." – The boy was clearly disappointed and didn't say anything for the next two minutes; he just sat on the bed, deep in thought.

Both adults gave him calculating looks and Major asked gently.

"Son, is there something else bothering you?"

Q thought about how he'd been having nightmares about having to betray his first friend soon. His thoughts went to the dread he felt every time he was talking to the boy; whether it was from fear of finding out Michael was in on the scheme right along with his father or learning that he really was clueless and as such would have to suffer the blow unexpectedly, Q couldn't decide. He relived the feeling of nausea that tormented him when he was lying through his teeth to people who didn't deserve it so flawlessly that he sometimes believed his stories himself. And finally: he thought about how the certain knowledge that he was going to lose Annabel when this would be over made him physically sick sometimes.

Q gave a shudder then pulled himself together. It was a time for action, not for self-pity. It was his mission; he had to complete it to the best of his abilities. M and HQ were counting on him. His minions were waiting for him to return to work and he was missing his MI6 family, too. Sentiments had nothing to do with this assignment.

"No, there's nothing else. Everything's fine."

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

The next morning, Q woke groggily and still very exhausted. He had spent the bigger part of the night surfing through the internet, looking for information on headmistress Gibbon. Sadly, he hadn't found much. Without any means to put his hacking knowledge to real use, he had been left with nothing better to do than to depend on Google, Facebook, Instagram and similar sites. Not that they had helped any.

Actually, it was like Agatha Gibbon didn't exist at all. Even his minions had done a better job with his alias: Daniel Coulter had more of a background than this Gibbon woman, whoever she really was.

There were the articles about the old headmaster's sudden resignation and the new headmistress' quick entrance into office of course just as Olivia and Major had reported to him; but that was it. No information about her previous jobs, no recommendations, no pictures or any social network accounts. He had found most of his teachers and classmates so he knew this was not a kind of Amish community or sect where internet activity was generally rejected and even shunned, so why hadn't he found anything on her? She wasn't even in the phone book. And yes, he had checked the real one, too, not just online.

It had occurred to him that she might have changed her name at some point but if that was the case, he wouldn't have much of a hope finding her with these amateur methods, without a secured internet connection which he could use for hacking. He wouldn't risk getting caught and bringing trouble for Olivia and Major. But the idea remained and so he spent Saturday morning trying to find any possible male Gibbons who could be the fairly new husband to Agatha-something. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to marry a woman like that but you could never know… He involuntarily thought about what Michael had said in relation of his girlfriend and decided that 'normal' people were even more mysterious for him than he had originally thought.

By dinner time he still hadn't found anything and he was gradually getting irritated. He was wasting his time! That woman possibly didn't even have anything to do with this whole mess that had brought him here – he should be concerning himself with uncovering Mr. Johnson's business, not obsessing about a hysterical woman who could be just some silly and unbearable old hag for all he knew.

So Q jumped up from where he had been sitting for hours in front of the computer and started walking up and down in his room, berating himself.

He didn't understand his bad feeling about that woman. He was surely just being paranoid. He was not even sure it had really been _her_ whom he had seen the other day, for God's sake! And other than that, she was just reading an article about an accident in Scotland that probably had no relation to Mr. Johnson whatsoever. Scotland was big and there were certainly more paper mill factories, not just the one that had been in the news. Major and Olivia didn't find anything suspicious about her and despite stressing that they weren't spies anymore, they still had fairly good instincts that could be trusted blindly. Just to mention one: it was their observation that had M assign him this mission in the first place.

It was one of the rare times when Q wished he could talk to his brothers and ask for some advice. They would know what to do.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

At 1:25 PM Q was still trying to make sense of things when he heard the phone ring down in the hall, and Olivia answer it. After just a few seconds there was a shout.

"Danny, it's for you!"

Q didn't have a clue who would call him but suspected (since it was for 'Danny') it must have something to do with the party that was set to begin this evening. He made his way downstairs and took the phone, thanking his 'aunt'.

Hallo?

 _It's me, Michael. Listen, there is something…_

Hi Michael, what is it, what's going on?

 _It's… I don't really know. I didn't know whom to call._ – The older boy sounded absolutely terrified.

Hey, is something wrong?

 _I don't know, I think it might be. Mom has been gone since yesterday afternoon, and I don't want to say anything to Margaret, I don't want to scare her. And dad doesn't answer his mobile phone. I don't know…_

It's okay, I'll help you in everything I can. What happened, Michael? – Q heard the boy take a deep breath as if bracing himself to say what he wanted.

 _I think someone might have broken into our house during the night._

WHAT? – That was unexpected. Who and why would do such a thing?

 _I can't talk about it now… Listen, could you maybe come over now? The party is still going to be held as planned, you would come anyway, just… can you come a bit earlier now, please?_

Of course. I'll be there in a few. Just hold on, it's all right.

With that he put the phone back down on its place and raced to find Major to ask him for a ride to the Johnsons' house. It was very odd that someone would break into the house now, as if they knew there were only two kids home alone…

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As soon as he arrived Michael grabbed him by the arm (rather painfully at that) and pulled him upstairs, shoving him unceremoniously into a room.

Q could see right away it must have been Mr. Johnson's study: the room was richly decorated, with deep velvet wallpaper, dark brown furniture and an off-white carpet on the floor. The desk that stood in front of the window was huge and there was an elegant swivel chair behind it.

The computer looked modern and Q had a feeling he would most definitely find useful bits of data on it if he had the time and opportunity… Which he most certainly didn't have now because Michael was fidgeting nervously next to him.

"This is my father's private room; he works here when he's at home. When he's not here, it's always locked and the key is hidden. The door wasn't opened so far I can tell. But I could hear some noises…"

"Then how did they get in?" – Asked Q and looked around the room again to search for possible entrance points.

"I guess it must have been through the window." – Answered Michael and pointed into the direction in question. – "The climbed in and exited there, too."

"Was the window open?"

"I guess it was open slightly. Dad likes to have his room fresh all the time during summertime."

"How could someone have climbed up outside? Is there for example a fire escape or something just outside the window? A ladder?"

"No, nothing. I don't know."

Q went to the window, opened it fully and looked down. There was really nothing, though the outer wall of the house was slightly rough. A Double-O agent could have climbed up without problems, especially having the right equipment, but no regular burglar would stand a chance here…

As he was about to turn back, he saw something small shining on the floor, tangled in the puffy carpet. He quickly pocketed it unnoticed by his companion for further examination.

"Do you or the neighbors have a dog?"

"No, no dog anywhere nearby."

"Hm…" – Q walked around the room and tried to ascertain where Mr. Johnson could be hiding his documents. He would need to know it later when _he_ would be the one breaking in. He felt ashamed at the mere thought but knew that he didn't have any other choice but to do it.

"Is something missing?"

"Nothing, so far I can tell. But they were certainly looking for something."

"How do you know?"

"Here, look. You can see the scratches on the drawer as they tried to pull it out. But it's locked with a key of course. My father never leaves anything out and the keys to his drawers and cabinets are always on his person. When he goes away like now, he even takes them with him."

The teenager genius examined the drawer and could see what the other was indicating. And he was right: it was evident that someone had tried to pry it open with some sharp object or another without success. And sadly, that meant there was no key for him to look for later… What kind of person takes a bunch of keys with him just for the fun of it? Nobody, so there had to be a valid reason.

"At what time did you hear the noises?"

"I think it must have been around 1 AM or so. I'm not entirely sure; I was half asleep."

"And how long do you think they were here, trying to open the drawer and looking around for whatever they were looking for?"

"I really couldn't tell."

"Do you have an idea why they gave up? Maybe they thought you would come out to check?"

"No idea."

Well, it was not very helpful.

"And when did you notice something was wrong?"

"Right before we talked on the phone. During the night I found the noises odd but didn't come out to examine, assuming it was Margaret moving around the house for some reason. But I asked her in the morning what she had been doing out in the middle of the night and she didn't understand what I meant. So I walked through the house looking for something amiss and came across that." – He explained, pointing at the damaged drawer again. – "I panicked and called you."

"Who knew about your parents both being away?"

"Nobody except for you guys because I mentioned it when I told you about the party in the Café yesterday."

Or someone who had been listening in on their conversation of course…

Q walked around the office looking for any more clues about the identity of the intruder. Michael was watching him as if he expected the boy to somehow have all the answers in a situation like this to all problems and also have a solution for them.

"Do you think we should call the police?" – Asked the older boy finally when it had become clear that Q wouldn't just conjure the would-be burglar out of thin air.

Q had a sudden mental image of the police storming the house, glad for the opportunity to have a look at Mr. Johnson's secrets and thus hindering HIS investigation. He shook his head quickly, dismissing the idea of calling outside help at once.

"No, I don't think it would do you any good. Just think about it: nothing was taken, there's no damage whatsoever, aside from the scratches on the drawer about which you can't prove that they hadn't been here before. That is not enough for the police to take you serious. They have murders to clear."

"Yeah, I guess you're right…"

"What about the alarm system though? How come it didn't register the intrusion and start shrilling?" – Michael looked at him confused. He hadn't told his friend about them having an alarm system at all. – "I can see the motion sensors in the corners." – Said Q rolling his eyes and pointed up to the ceiling.

"Oh. No. During the night it only activates if the entrance door is opened or a window is broken. Other than that, you can walk around the house freely."

'What a faulty construction!' – Thought Q, his mind already working out about a thousand ways how it could have been avoided.

"Well, there's not a lot to do then."

"Do you think they'll come back?" – Asked Michael frightened and looked around the room as if waiting for the intruder to suddenly materialize in front of him. – "Or do you think they might STILL be here?" – Now he was positively panicking. – "My father has a gun hidden in the garage. Maybe I should grab it-"

"NO! Michael, pull yourself together and forget about taking the gun right away! Of course they are not here anymore! Look…" – With that he grabbed the bigger boy's shoulders and led him to the window. Q pointed down into the garden and explained: - "Can you see those trails in the grass? Two times two lines. First someone headed this way (that's those on the right) then the same someone leaving (those on the left). Of course the police couldn't take usable footprints from them but it's clear anyway: whoever entered your house in the night has left a long time ago. And they hadn't been here for long."

"How do you know that?"

"Just look at the trails. All two pairs are nearly in the same state. Surely, there used to be a deeper imprint when it was fresh and then the grass has started to regenerate. And they're in a very similar state, so there couldn't have been much time difference between the two."

"Is that how you know which one is which way?"

"Exactly."

"Wow. You don't know what you want to be? I'll tell you: you should be a detective!"

At that Q couldn't help himself and burst out laughing.

"Can you see me wearing a long black coat with deerstalker hat? Oh, no, believe me: I really shouldn't become a detective!"

He didn't elaborate anymore, not even at seeing the confused expression of his friend.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As there was nothing more to do about the break-in, both boys left the room and Michael locked it up again carefully. Having checked it was done properly, he pocketed the key and didn't show any inclination to let it go anymore.

Q thought it wouldn't make sense anymore to go home for the few hours they still had until the party, so he offered to help with shopping, cleaning and decorating instead.

Margaret already had two of her most trusted girlfriends over, and the three of them shut themselves into her room to choose dresses and do their makeup, not even coming out to greet Q or help the two boys with anything.

But the boys didn't mind; even between just the two of them, by quarter to six they had everything ready: Q had rearranged the room's layout in a way that made it possible for a greater number of teenagers to move around without potential danger to injure themselves or the furniture, while Michael had prepared the music and set out paper cups and plates for everyone. Both of them had ridden on bicycles to the grocery shop (fortunately, the Johnsons had a spare Q could use) to buy refreshers, food and some snacks. They had made sandwiches, then cut up vegetables and cheese, and arranged them neatly on a separate plate. It all looked very appetizing. They also put out snacks in small portions all around the living room and arranged bottles of Cola, Fanta and different fruit juices on the coffee table.

At five to six, the first guests started to arrive and in just quarter of an hour, the house was buzzling, full with teenagers – most of them Q had never spoken to. He shared different classes with some of them, and they all seemed to know who he was ("See, I told you everyone was talking about you!" – Reminded him Michael with a knowing smile), but other than that, he didn't know much about them.

It was no problem though, they all seemed nice enough as they introduced themselves enthusiastically. As promised, the team from the movie theater night-out brought beer and pizza and promptly started devouring them, too.

Annabel arrived at 6:30 PM and gave Q a quick hug.

"I've brought some scone. I backed it with my mom." – She explained, trying to be heard over the loud music.

"Cool. Come on, let's put it on the table." – Shouted back Q, and took the tray out of her hands.

The music made it rather difficult to talk, though nobody seemed to mind it. It looked like they preferred to dance, eat and drink to having a conversation. Q just hoped he wasn't expected to join in…

Luckily, Annabel didn't seem too fond of the idea of dancing either. They just sat and watched the others amusedly, laughing every time someone tripped over their own two feet out of lack of coordination caused by far too much alcohol-consume.

At around 1 AM, when at least half the group was already asleep, sprawled out on different places of the house (in the bathtub, on the floor, three of them on top of each other on the couch), some had already left and few boys were still trying to eat all the leftovers, Q decided it was time to make his move.

Margaret had retreated into her room again hours ago, while Michael had just recently disappeared with his girlfriend into his own room… 'Now or never', thought Q.

He disentangled himself from under Annabel, who had fallen asleep leaning against his shoulder around an hour ago sitting in the armchair, and very quietly crept upstairs.

Michael had most probably taken the key with him so Q had to rely on his lock-picking skills with the door and also everything else inside the office.

He didn't see anyone upstairs, so he crouched down in front of the door of the study and pulled a hidden small, special pin out of the back of his watch. It was a prototype meant for Bond's next mission and it came in handy that he had the opportunity to test it now.

The pin could be folded into two, and it fit perfectly into any lock. The door opened instantly and Q breathed a sigh of relief after he had made sure nobody had heard or seen anything.

He quietly entered the room and closed the door firmly behind himself.

It helped that he already knew the whole outlay, so he could stride immediately right to the desk and kneel in front of the drawer that the previous burglar had abandoned as hopeless.

'I'm not better than them.' – He thought regretfully, and went to work on the lock.

It swung open just as easily as the door had thanks to his special kit. The agents would be happy to have that for sure. (Unless they would be disappointed not to have to shoot at the closed doors anymore…)

Inside the drawer, Q could see thick folders neatly stacked and carefully labelled with numbers. These didn't seem to mean anything at first look, so Q assumed they were some kind of codes. He grabbed all files and hid them in his jacket.

Closing the drawer again, he wandered over to the cabinet and opened it as well, curious what could be in there.

The cabinet held hundreds of other files, all numbered but without any more reference to their contents. The boy knew he couldn't take them all with him, so he just started opening some randomly, trying to ascertain if they were of any importance. Most of them listed names and dates of unknown meaning but Q found one that held the name of the same factory in Scotland in which the accident had happened a few days ago. He took that one too, and put the others back.

He had already been away from the party for far too long, he didn't want anyone to realize it and become suspicious.

He closed and packed away everything, examined the room to make sure he wouldn't leave any traces behind, and then returned downstairs where – thankfully – nothing had changed in his absence and from the few who were still awake, nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. No wonder in their state…

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Given that Michael hadn't reappeared thorough the whole night, Q felt compelled to stay until everyone else left, just to make sure nothing would happen to the house. He of course felt the irony of him worrying about someone robbing something when he was still holding his jacket protectively to his chest, hiding all evidence against his best friend's father…

In the morning when the last guests had said their goodbyes, Q started to pick up a bit after the event that had been – according to everyone he had spoken to and had been sober enough to make sense – a great hit.

He swept the floor to get rid of any crumbs – not wanting to wake the residents with vacuuming – and threw out all the used paper cups and plates. He arranged the abandoned and thrown around CDs, making sure to put them into the correct cases, then deposit everything into their respective places on the shelf. He also washed up the trays and utensils and took out the empty beer bottles and the trash.

He decided against moving the furniture back to how it had been, for fear it would make too much noise.

When everything looked at least halfway presentable, he wrote a quick note to the Johnson children to inform them he would be locking the door upon leaving, and drop the key back in through the door mail slot for them to find.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

He had to walk home because in his hurry the day before, he had forgotten to bring his season ticket for the bus. As such, he got home at around half past six.

Olivia and Major were preparing breakfast, clearly having just woken up.

"Oh, my boy! How was the party?" – Greeted him old Boothroyd. – How did you come? Did someone bring you?"

"Morning! And no, I walked."

"What? Why didn't you call me? I would have gladly picked you up."

"No, it was too early, I didn't want to wake you. It's okay though, I like walking. Look: I have found some things." – Said Q, pulling the folders from under his jacket and showing the stack to them. – "I'm hoping these will clear up some questions."

"That's very good, I'm proud, son." – Praised old-M. – "But what about the party itself? Did you enjoy it? How was it?"

"Oh, well, it was… noisy."

Major raised an eyebrow and Olivia couldn't hide a smile.

"Noisy?" – She repeated unbelievingly. – "That's usually not the first thing teenagers say when asked about a party."

"It was also crowded."

The adults just shrugged, clearly giving him up as a lost cause.

"Would you like some breakfast?" – Olivia offered.

"No, thanks, I would like to begin with these papers right away. I want to send something to M as soon as possible."

"Don't overdo it, boy, you must be very tired."

"I'm fine. I'm used to going days without sleep."

As he left to go upstairs to his room, the two adults looked at each other over their cups of coffee, both thinking the same thing: 'That's exactly what we're worried about.'


	9. IX Revelations

**Revelations**

However used he was to pulling all-nighters, after having worked for a few hours he must have dosed off slumped on his desk, because the next thing he knew he woke with a start as the doorbell rang. Q jumped at the unexpected disruption then looked out of the window. He could see that the sun was already much higher up in the sky than when he started to review the documents. A brief glance at the clock on his nightstand: 10:35. Who would visit at that time on Sunday?

Being his paranoid self he slowly crept to the top of the stairs and crouched down to try to see who Olivia was talking to.

To his surprise, it was the headmistress, Mrs. Gibbon. If he strained his ears, he could also hear what they were saying, despite both of the adult doing their best to keep as quiet as possible.

"Good morning, Mrs. Marshall, I've come to talk briefly to your nephew."

"Good morning, Mrs. Gibbon. I'm afraid Danny is still asleep. I wouldn't want to wake him; he doesn't have much opportunity to rest during school days after all."

"I'm sorry to disturb him them, but it's really very important." – Pressed the headmistress. – "You see, he's only just joined our school a week ago, there's another week of classes and then examinations are coming. I need to make sure he's ready for them by that time; I can't have him fail everything just because he's not prepared and doesn't know what to expect after all. I also can't make exceptions, not even in a situation like that, so not taking the exams or having any benefits is out of question."

"I'm sure Danny understands that. He's preparing for exams and doesn't expect any special treatment, I assure you."

"That's very reassuring, thank you, but I still would like to hear it from him if it's possible." – Her voice indicated that she wouldn't accept it not to be possible.

Mansfield held her own though. She hadn't been head of MI6 for many years for nothing; she certainly wasn't going to be scared by a woman like that easily.

"Then you can call him to your office first thing tomorrow, and he'll tell you the same. With all due respect, Mrs. Gibbon, it's half past ten in the morning on Sunday. Surely, this can wait another day?"

"I'm afraid it can't." – Enough was enough. This woman clearly wasn't going to budge, so Q decided to get this over with and better talk with her before Olivia did something all of them would regret later, like shooting her or ordering her execution. The boy had no doubt that despite her retirement she would be more than capable of doing any of these in a heartbeat and without regrets.

"And why not?" – Inquired the ex-leader of MI6 with growing irritation, applying all her authority. This had always been a cue for even Double-Os to start running the other way but this dumb woman didn't seem to know what was good for her.

"Because-"

"It's all right, Aunt Mary, I'm here." – Announced his presence Q with raised voice, halting a possibly approaching physical fight between the two women. Even though it would have been entertaining to watch…

"Danny, what are you doing down here? Go up to your room!"

"No, Aunt Mary, really, it's all right. Morning Mrs. _Gibbon_. Let's take a walk in the garden so that we can talk without disruption, shall we?"

"Good idea, Mr. Coulter. We can go over your exam schedule out there uninterrupted, I hope?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way." – Turning to his 'aunt' he said: - "I'll be back in a bit. Don't worry; it's fine."

"Well, if you're sure…" – Olivia looked undecided whether she should leave him alone with the woman who very clearly didn't really want to speak about anything school-related.

"I am." – And with that, Q and the headmistress left, leaving Olivia Mansfield standing in front of the closed door, staring worriedly at it. The boy might be the Quartermaster of MI6 and thus possess some level of training but he was still only sixteen…

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As they were walking toward the maze, Mrs. Gibbon gave Q a very false smile, and asked:

"So, Mr. Coulter, how do you like your new school so far?"

'Oh, so we're playing this game now? All right then.' – Thought Q. Out loud he said:

"I like it just fine: it's very nice. Everyone is friendly and I get a lot of help fitting in."

"That's good, very good… So you have made friends already?"

"Plenty, yes."

"I realized, one of them is young Mr. Johnson, isn't he."

"Oh, yes, Michael is great."

"You spend a lot of time with him then? And with his sister, Margaret?"

"Mostly with Michael. I'm on the football team now. Margaret on the other hand spends most of her free time with her own circle of friends. They're a different clique."

"Oh, yes, of course. But you have your own 'clique' that includes Mr. Johnson and a few others, right?"

"Right."

"And? Have you been invited to his house already?"

Q stopped walking abruptly and having already decided to end this ridiculous pretending game, he exclaimed.

"Excuse me? I thought we were talking about my upcoming exams. What does this have to do with everything?"

The headmistress dropped her act instantly, the smile leaving her face, an ugly frown appearing instead.

"Oh, please, don't insult my intelligence-"

"I don't think that's possible-"

"-I know very well what you're doing. Tell me, boy: who are you really?"

"I could ask you the same, Mrs. _Gibbon_."

"Come on, _Danny_. Who sent you? Is daddy an overeager investigator at Scotland Yard? Did he send his own sixteen-year-old boy to do the dirty work just to get a promotion or something? You ARE really 16, aren't you?"

"Of course I am."

"And…?"

"And what?"

The woman turned to him and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, shaking the boy.

"Don't play games with me! Who sent you? Who are you working for?"

"Who sent YOU and who are YOU working for?" – Rebutted Q and shoved her away none too gently. – "There's no Agatha Gibbon. Has never been, actually. I couldn't find any data on you: no license even though you drive to school every day. No credit cards issued by any bank nearby even though it's obvious you don't lack money. Nobody knows anything about you: how you've been chosen for the position, even why your predecessor really left… You're very clearly not cut out to be a headmaster and you're obviously not even interested in it. You're not planning on staying any longer than necessary and couldn't care less about the school. Otherwise you'd never have permitted a new student to join two weeks before the end of term."

"Well, I could say the same about you: there has never been a Daniel Coulter on your supposed old school. Your people have done an admirably job, I have to give them that, but I talked to some of the teachers at the school and nobody could remember ever having taught you. And your family? It doesn't exist! There has only been one Daniel Coulter in the town you claim to have come from, but he died twenty-three years ago at the age of 85. So, unless you want to say you're his reincarnation, you're false."

"Not any falser than you are, _ma'am_."

"Look, obviously I can't tell you details about me, but I promise: you can trust me."

"Oh, yes, you're doing an admirable job convincing me of that." – Said Q sarcastically, rubbing his sore shoulders where her hand will have definitely left bruises.

The woman sighed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to frighten you. Honestly. I just don't think investigation is a job for a teenager. I don't know who saw it fitting to send a child-"

"And you won't learn it, however often you ask in different and creative ways-"

"- but I just want you to know, I could help you."

"What? You want to HELP me?"

"Yes, I have been working on this case for over—"

"Two months now. I know."

She looked momentarily surprised but then continued as if nothing had happened.

"Then you must see that I'm fairly ahead of you."

"I'm not so sure about that. You see, at the end of the day, it always comes down to competency, not the time invested into the task." – Provoked Q smugly.

"We could work together and then share the success too."

"And why would I want to work with you? What would be in there for me?"

"The help I can give you, of course. I'm far more experienced in things like this than you are."

"Are you sure? You have no idea who I am and what I've done so far. Also: you weren't even capable of opening a simply locked drawer, so excuse me if I have a hard time believing that you could help me with anything."

"WHAT? How do you…? When did you…?"

"You shouldn't leave one of your belongings lying around if you don't want to get caught." – And with that, Q pulled an earring he had found in the office of Mr. Johnson by inspecting the scene at her out of his pocket and showed it to her. Until now he had only had a sneaking suspicion that it had belonged to her, but now he could clearly see she was not wearing any earring even though he could have sworn she used to. That much he could remember from her ramblings because he had always tried to distract himself by cataloguing his surroundings rather than actually having to listen to her.

'Mrs. Gibbon' took the earring from his outstretched palm and visibly paled.

"It's not… It's not what it looks like!"

"Really? So you didn't break into the Johnsons' house on Friday night to try to steal Mr. Johnson's documents in hope of finding some evidence against him? Hmm?"

"Well…"

"I knew right away it was you." – It was a little bit of exaggeration because in reality, he had only suspected it up until now, but she didn't need to know it… - "Don't worry: I haven't told him, and I'm not planning on doing it. IF you leave me alone to do my work, that is."

"Are you blackmailing me, boy?"

"No. I'm just telling you how it's gonna be so that you know your options. It's just fair, don't you find?"

Mrs. Gibbon, or whatever her real name was, gave him a withering glare that should have sent shivers down his spine – but it actually only served to make him more determined to outsmart her. He just stood there, waiting for her answer; refusing to back down.

After some consideration, she said:

"Very well. Let's see who's better then. You do your job and I do mine. No interfering and no hindering each other."

"It's a deal."

"Let's shake on it."

They did and she left huffing and puffing.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Q returned to the files, waving off the adults' concerned inquiries and any offer of breakfast/dinner.

He had to work quickly, before that horrible woman did something to jeopardize all he'd done so far. He of course didn't trust her promise for a minute to leave him alone and not interfere with his investigations.

So far, all he had read in the stolen documents had been very much insightful: information about Mr. Michael Johnson Sr's antics with a lot of names and places mentioned. He had the feeling this whole thing was even bigger than they had originally thought.

It looked like the Scotland factory incident had been indeed his doing, as well as countless others in the past. Mr. Johnson seemed to have a habit to just simply get rid of anyone he thought could stand in the way of his dealings, leaving unresolved murder cases behind wherever he went. And of course not every country, city or town had a Sherlock Holmes ready to jump up and solve these for them…

Of course, it was never actually him doing the killings with his own hands. Oh no, he had people for that. Mr. Johnson had always made sure to be seen on other places in the time of the 'accidents': eating with business partners in an elegant restaurant where just the dessert costs far more than normal people's monthly salaries, attending a museum opening as a special guest or in this recent case on a charity event invited by the organizer personally donating an incredible amount of money to a children's hospital. The only thing that mattered to him was having an alibi.

But it was there in the files, black and white: he had always been the employer of the hitmen. He had planned all the murders carefully and didn't leave chance for mistake. All his people had to sign a contract that was literally them singing away their lives and that of all their family members in case of betrayal. Thanks to these contracts, Q now had a whole list of accomplices.

There was also all the evidence ever needed on money laundering. He gathered all these separately and studied them very thoroughly, making detailed notes on each case – this was the original reason for his involvement in this mission in the first place after all.

It looked like the 'aid' the company Johnson & Co. Ltd. gave to firms and inventors came with a much higher price than normal loans: they had to give back 80% of it to Mr. Johnson personally right away and then also 20% of their profit monthly for 5-10 years, depending the type of their contract. Should someone at any time during that period become reluctant to comply with this responsibility, or go as far as to threaten to let the whole business fly up, they would 'mysteriously disappear' one day just to turn up as a dead body not much later or they'd suffer a horrible, fatal accident – just like the factory director inexplicably falling down the shaft or the other man who had unexplainably gone off the road one day around a year ago while driving home to his family after work.

Q had found all these agreements along with financial summaries about the current balances of the partners. Most files had been recently updated. Presumably, Mr. Johnson was one of the people who liked having everything on paper rather than just in the computer. Maybe he didn't trust it not to be hacked. Well, he shouldn't have trusted his study either. He should have rented a safe deposit box in a bank or something. Well, Q wasn't about to complain of course. It would have been so much more strenuous to break into a bank… Not impossible but certainly more vexing.

The boy was leafing through the papers when his eyes caught on something: one of the firms had been neglecting to pay the agreed percentage for three months now, claiming the contract had been immoral and therefore not valid. They had sent a threatening letter to Mr. Johnson explaining that they were going to hire a lawyer and file a suit if he didn't repay all the illegally received money to them, along with the interest. This firm's seat was in Manchester.

Manchester, Manchester… Hadn't Michael mentioned his father would go to Manchester before returning home sometime next week…?

"Oh, shit!"

Q gathered all his notes and the documents, packed them into a big box and wrapped it up carefully. After that he raced downstairs. It was high time he called M and got the Double-Os involved. This was bigger than what he could solve alone.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

M, as promised over phone, had sent a trustworthy courier of MI6 for the package and so it was already on its way to HQ to be assessed. As such, the proceedings were out of his hands though Q could still feel the weight of the files in his arms – or was it his heart? He couldn't tell…

It was already late in the afternoon and the boy was just loitering in the enormous garden without really being able to appreciate the beauty of it, his overactive brain tormenting him constantly with images of Michael finding out about his friend's betrayal and Annabel learning he wasn't who she thought him to be…

Johnson Jr. had called a few hours ago to thank 'Danny' for the incredible amount of help he had provided while preparing the party and then picking up after it and locking the house while the hosts had both been too busy to do so themselves. His genuine gratefulness made the teenage genius feel even guiltier about what he had done. But he hadn't had a choice! It wasn't only about corruption anymore; it was about lives being in jeopardy!

It was a pity this knowledge didn't make him feel any better about this whole mess…

After a while Olivia and Major got tired of him moping around instead of celebrating his success and went to join the boy who was sitting on a bench, looking for all the world like a small child on the playground whose favorite toy had been stolen by older boys.

"Son, you did what you had to do, there's no need to feel bad about it." – Tried to console him Major.

"I know."

"The mission is completed in record time, that's better than what anyone could have expected!" – Olivia patted his shoulder admiringly.

"Yeah…"

"You have stopped a very cruel man and probably saved more than one life in the process." – Reminded him old Boothroyd.

"I hope so."

Both of them sighed at their fruitless attempts to cheer the teenager up.

"Come on then. You'll need to be up early tomorrow to catch the bus, and you didn't sleep anything at all last night."

When they had been talking over the phone, M had told him he should remain undercover as long as Mr. Johnson Sr. and his people were still walking around free. The head of MI6 had promised that two Double-O agents would be sent to retrieve them right away as soon as the evidence Q had gathered would be in his hands but until they would report back with news about successful captures, anything could happen and Q had to be on location for it. As much as he would have liked to flee in shame, Q sadly had had to agree with his boss' logic. This whole thing might have been close to ending but it was still not entirely there.

It didn't mean he had to like it though.

"I don't want to go back to school tomorrow." – He was absolutely not whining. If anyone said anything else, they were lying. – "Maybe I could call in sick? Say I've got a hangover or food poisoning or something similar…"

Of course, his hope just had to be destroyed by Olivia who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"How could you have food poisoning? Everyone knows you don't eat anything!"

Major put his arms around the boy's shoulders.

"My boy, I have never known you to run away from problems and hide instead of facing them."

Q sighed but finally relented.

"No, in reality it's not my habit. All right then. Let's go in. I need to pack my school bag for tomorrow and I also have homework to do."

"Shame on you, young man, haven't we told you a hundred times that homework comes first and only then are you allowed to have fun? You should have done your duty on Friday! No allowance for you this month!"

They all laughed at that, the tension lessening some as their returned to the house together.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Monday began for Q with yet another wrestling match with his locker. It was very frustrating for a technological genius to have to admit that he simply couldn't overcome a primitive piece of furnishing (the only lock ever that even his magic kit hadn't been able to conquer) and so the fight ended with Q sullenly admitting defeat and carrying all his belongings up with him to the first floor for Math.

He really couldn't concentrate on his teacher going on and on about expressing geometric properties with equations, and spent the time mentally creating different scenarios about his inevitably nearing conversation with Annabel instead. By the end of the class he had only succeeded in making his head hurt and had earned himself another scornful expression from his teacher for his lack of taking notes on 'one of the most important topics of next week's upcoming exam, young man' and not appreciating the seriousness of 'only having TWO more classes before the end of term to prepare'.

On the beginning of Literature Q decided to tell Annabel the truth (well, as much as he was allowed to tell of course). By the end of the lesson and after Mr. Harringford's encouraging words about how they would all be acing exams next week and how they shouldn't worry about it given that they still had one more lesson to review their questions, his determination was gone again just as quickly as it had come.

So, after recess, Q was lingering outside in front of the Chemistry lab, trying to gather courage to go in. ('You are the Quartermaster, for Pete's sake! Get a grip on yourself!) In the end, it was the teacher who did it for him, by grabbing him on the back of his neck forcefully and dragging him into the room. ('Only two more lessons to go until the end of term exams, and you are not going to miss any of them, boy!')

So, Q sat next to Annabel for the whole lesson, pretending to be concentrating hard on the kinetic energies of the molecules in different temperatures, and giving her encouraging smiles from time to time (exactly every 4,5 minutes which he hoped wasn't too few or too much to be suspicious and also wouldn't make him look as a weirdo) so that she wouldn't know something was wrong. Well, that was the plan but as Q soon had to discover, his poker face still wasn't the best when it came to the girl he liked. (Well, at least he hadn't dropped anything this time… An improvement, right?)

"What's the matter, Danny? Is there a problem?" – Asked him Annabel worriedly as they were packing their things to leave for the next lesson.

"No, no, of course not, why would you think that?" – Q was definitely not squeaking, was he?

"I don't know, you look troubled… The party was good, don't you think? You didn't get in trouble with your Aunt and Uncle for going, did you?"

That was as good an explanation as any, Q decided.

"Well, maybe a little bit… I was supposed to be back home by 11 PM, not stay over the whole night because they think I should study more to be able to pass all my exams. But it's okay, they'll get over it. I'm just not allowed to go anywhere until the summer holidays now."

"Oh, well, it's understandable though, isn't it? I wouldn't want to go anywhere now anyway. I'm too worried about studying and doing my best during the examinations next week."

"I suppose you're right."

The conversation had gone all right, Q decided. He hadn't really wanted to tell her the truth anyway. Not yet…

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

History and Biology were over very soon, though Q had a feeling he might have dozed off on both lessons at one point because he was sure the two sentences he had heard in each (the first and the last) didn't have any connection to each other, so presumable there should have been more in between…

During lunch break he checked his phone at least a hundred times, awaiting news from M about the capture of Mr. Johnson or anything that might have happened on the first dangerous mission he wasn't handling personally since becoming the Quartermaster. It was a very bad feeling, not knowing what was going on, and not being there to help out if needed.

But there was nothing. Q sighed and attempted to open his locker again. This time he managed it on fourth try and was grateful to get rid of everything but his Spanish books he would need next.

Q left his cell on silent mode in his pocket during Spanish and checked it under his desk religiously every five minutes. And sure enough – around the last third of the class he found an SMS saying 'All clear, mission accomplished, everyone's fine. Do not abandon your post until further instructions. M'

Q couldn't contain himself and jumped up, interrupting the teacher reciting the conjugation of the verb 'pensar' somewhere by the 'indicativo pretérito' in third person. (She had only gotten three wrong this far, which was a big accomplishment for her.)

"¡Señora, lo siento, pero tengo que salir!"

The teacher looked at him with a confused expression.

"What did you say Mr. Coulter?"

Q rolled his eyes and gathered all his things, randomly throwing them into his bag without really paying attention to where they landed.

"I said: I need to get out. You really should try to learn the language you teach you know." – And with that, he was instantly out of the room, the sound of his classmates' clapping following him all the way to the corridor.

He would most probably be sent to the headmistress' office for his cheek again – no matter. He wanted to see her face once she learned she had been bested anyway.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

As soon as he arrived home he raced into the house to find Olivia and Major. They were both anxiously awaiting his return: they met him in the hall, hugged him tightly and everyone started to talk excitedly at the same time:

"We heard what happened!"

"You really did it, son, you did it!"

"I have to tell you something!"

And then everyone stopped and just stared for a few seconds, before bursting out laughing.

"I got an SMS from M saying they completed the mission and that everyone is fine. But nothing more, no details…" – Informed them Q, calming down a little.

"That's all we know. And that you should continue with school as before until you get new instructions."

"Yeah, he wrote that to me, too. But why though? It's over, isn't it? My cover will be blown soon enough now."

"Why would your cover be blown? Nobody must know it was you!" – Inquired Major curiously.

"Michael will know. Nobody else could have been, I was there in the study just mere hours before with him, he showed me things... He's clever. Believe me: he will know." – Q's enthusiasm was fading fast, giving place to shame and sorrow. He had betrayed his best friend… Oh, blast it.

As if reading his mind, Olivia hugged him again and whispered into his ear.

"You did what you had to do, my boy. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Major assured him as well:

"You saved a lot of lives today, son. You ought to be proud of yourself!"

Later, Q tried to call Michael to talk to him, but nobody picked up the phone. He contemplated visiting him in person but then decided against it: they would meet the next day in PE anyway.


	10. X Betrayal and Redemption

**Betrayal and Redemption**

Q didn't want to wait until the last lesson so after Math he went to look for Michael. He knew his friend had Geography first, which was on the same floor, just a few rooms away. He rushed out of Math and waited in front of classroom 111 to talk to his friend.

When their lesson ended too, just a few minutes after Q's, students stormed out like whirlwind, but he couldn't see Michael anywhere. Soon, the room emptied and the new group of students started to gather for the next lesson. For lack of better idea, Q entered and walked up to the teacher.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm looking for Michael Johnson. I think he just had class here."

"Yes, yes, well, he should have anyway. He didn't bother to come and didn't call to say why. This is completely unacceptable behavior, especially on the last week!"

"I'm sure he must have a good reason…"

"If you say so. Well, if you'll excuse me: I have another lesson to prepare. I'm sure you have somewhere to be, too, don't you, boy?"

"Yeah. Thanks" – The genius was worried: if Michael wasn't in school then where was he? What could have happened? Was everything all right?

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Q was climbing the stairs to go to Grammar when he heard the commotion: shouting, screaming, running around, things falling and… SHOOTING? What the hell?

It was all coming from the direction of the main entrance so people were fleeing upstairs. Q had to literally fight his way through them to go to the opposite way: downstairs. He had to see what was happening!

As soon as he reached the ground floor he was greeted by the most terrible sight he had ever had the misfortune to encounter: Michael Johnson Jr. was standing in the middle of a circle of frightened, crying students and teachers, waving around a pistol and shouting at everyone to remain where they were. It seemed like he had shot at least two times into the ceiling. Luckily nobody looked to be harmed aside from being horrified.

The frantic teenager was directing all the teachers to stand by one wall and the students by another. He ordered to students to stand still and not move, while he turned threateningly to the teachers, saying:

"I am going to kill any one of you if you don't tell me where Daniel Coulter is!"

Oh, God… The teen genius now understood: Michael had already heard about his father being arrested and had of course instantly guessed, it could only have been him behind it all. And now he wanted revenge and seemed to be ready to harm others if he didn't get what he wanted; namely Q.

Q stood rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. He was not a Double-O agent; nobody had been anticipating him getting himself into a situation like that! But it had happened so it was no use lamenting about it right now. Now, he had to try to save everyone. They couldn't get hurt because of him!

Nobody seemed to want to (or be able to) answer Michael's question, and that only made him even angrier.

"I am going to shoot you all if you don't tell me where that traitor is!"

Q felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Annabel standing behind him shaking and with tears running down her cheeks.

She whispered to him.

"You have to flee! Run! He's crazy! He said he wanted to kill you!"

Q squeezed her hand. It was time for her to learn the truth – along with everyone else, it seemed.

"It's okay, don't worry, I'll take care of it. Just don't go anywhere near him and don't do anything conspicuous that could draw his attention to you."

"What? What do you mean? Don't go there! Danny!"

But it was no use; Q had made a decision. He was not going to let anyone get harmed for his sins.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs and wanted to step out from behind the people crowding there, he saw the headmistress stepping toward Michael, hands raised in a placating manner as she said with a voice clearly intended to be shooting but in reality achieving quite the opposite:

"It's all right, Mr. Johnson. Put that gun down! Nobody has to get hurt."

"You go back to the others! I am going to shoot you!" – Michael was noticeably trembling now which was very dangerous in a situation like that, Q knew it very well.

"Boy, don't make it even worse for yourself, you're in enough trouble as it is!" – What was that inept woman doing? She should calm him down, not provoke him further!

The woman was nearing the now panicking boy and reached towards the pistol.

"I am Agent Morrison from CIA. You are hereby arrested by me as the representative of the United States of America and will be handed over to your authorities as soon as-" – At that moment, a loud shook the building as Michael's trembling hand had squeezed a trigger, seemingly without clear intention to do so. The bullet had missed the Agent by mere inches. Everyone started shouting and trying to flee again, and Michael was getting desperate in his panic.

CIA… Well, that explained a few things. Of course Americans would have noticed Mr. Johnson's businesses too and take an interest in it.

Q knew it was time to do something and stepped forward, out to plain view of the trembling would-be terrorist.

"STOP!" – Everyone halted at that, looking around surprised to find the speaker. Good… he still could use his authoritative voice he had perfected with Double-Os then. – "Everyone stop panicking at once! Michael, I'm here. I heard you were looking for me."

"You!" – Accused the older boy, pointing the gun at him. – "You betrayed me! You were the only one who knew about the study! You had the opportunity to get in there during the party. It was you all along, working with that CIA-woman!"

"Now, don't insult me! I was of course not working with her. I have nothing to do with her." – He didn't even try to deny the rest. Everything else was true after all and he was a lot of things, but a coward he was not. He was ready to take responsibility for his actions.

"And then who are you working for?"

"I'm afraid I'm not in liberty to say. But I can assure you, it's not the CIA and certainly not that… _lady_."

"You're not Daniel Coulter, are you?"

Q turned to look Annabel in the eyes apologetically as he answered Michael's question.

"No. I am indeed not."

He saw Annabel let out a sob and run away, and heard Michael give a cry that sounded like a wounded animal's shout.

"What's your name then? Your real name?"

He turned back to his ex-friend.

"I can't tell you that either. My real name is not relevant anyway. It's long forgotten. It's not me anymore. Look, let's take this conversation out to the schoolyard, all right? You are about to shoot me after all; surely, you don't want innocent people to have to witness such a brutality?"

"Innocent? You're a funny one. Nobody is innocent in a world where your best friend betrays you and then revels himself to be a secret agent who had just been pretending to be friends with you all the time!"

"All right but you only want to kill me, nobody else. Please, then at least let them go! Not anyone can take the sight of blood…"

"Is it a secret agent trick?"

"No! I'm not a secret agent and it's not a trick. I just don't want all these people's lives to be ruined; that's all. It is a huge shock already for them."

"Oh, and what about my life? You took away my father and threw dirt at us all! You destroyed our family!"

"I know. I am very sorry. You can't even begin to imagine how much."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's not. It's just the truth. It's not supposed to do anything. Please, let's either go out just the two of us or send out everyone else from here. Please."

"The students can go upstairs. But move it then! Teachers stay! And you, CIA – I'm sure you're the one who broke into our house! You may not have worked together but both of you had a common aim: to take away my own and my sister's future! You are going to pay just like this little shit here."

The students soon disappeared and the two once-best friends remained staring at each other. One had a gun pointing at the other who stood his own calmly. The teachers whimpered – a background noise Q was barely registering and quite frankly couldn't care less about.

It was just between the two of them now.

"So, Michael. You're really going to shoot me? Do you think that would help your situation? Because as I see it: you're not guilty of anything your father did. And nobody will think otherwise. Your life is not ruined."

"Of course you'd say that! You're just afraid to die!"

"No, actually, I'm not." – Q was somewhat surprised to find he really wasn't. For some reason, he felt no fear whatsoever at the possibility of being shot to death right then and there. – "I want to help you. You ARE my friend, it was not a lie. It never was."

"These are just words without meaning out of a mouth of a liar!"

From the outside, police sirens could be heard. The students must have called them after they had gone upstairs. Michael started to freak out again, and waved around with the pistol.

"I'm going to kill you! And then I'm going to kill the CIA-woman! And then I'm-" – But they never learnt what he would do afterwards because Q – taking advantage of the boy's confused state – leapt at Michael and started to fight him for the gun.

They struggled for a while and the teachers screamed and shouted. Another shot sounded and Q managed to get hold of the gun just as the Specialist Firearms Command entered the school and flooded it with specially trained police officers dressed in bulletproof vests and armed with non-lethal and lethal weapons as well.

The struggle ended with Michael giving up and being hauled away by a police officer in handcuffs. Q remained on the floor, totally spent. He could hear the teachers' shouts but couldn't make out the words. The gun in his hand felt heavy so he emptied it swiftly of the remaining bullets then dropped it. He could hear the 'headmistress' (presumably rather ex-headmistress now) above everyone else screaming about CIA protocols and threatening everyone with calling her boss. Q didn't care one way or another. In just a few minutes he had lost his first best friend and his first… whatever Annabel had been or _could have been_.

He didn't hear the ambulance arrive, didn't realize the doctors running to him or asking him questions… When he finally passed out he welcomed the sudden peace.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

It didn't last long though. Q came to in the ambulance while he was being treated for… what was it again? He looked around confusedly until finally one of the doctors realized he was awake.

"Hey, young man, please, don't move. It is going to be all right, you're going to be fine. Just hold still."

"What happened?" – Asked Q and struggled to free his left arm from the grip of another doctor. – "What's wrong with me?"

"Aside from you being severely malnourished you mean?" – The doctor looked rather disdainful at his, Q now noticed, bare torso, quite specifically at his protruding ribs. He blushed in embarrassment. How dare they…? – "You were shot while wrestling for the gun with that madman-"

"Michael's NOT a madman!"

"— in your left shoulder. You're lucky it didn't go a few inches nearer to your chest. We wouldn't be sitting here so calmly talking about it now."

"You're calling that CALM? Someone's trying to rip off my arm!"

"No, Doctor Madison is just trying to treat you. We have to stop the bleeding. As skinny as you are, you really can't afford losing any more blood."

Q looked at the other man – presumably Doctor Madison – who waved to him friendly.

"That's right, young man, so please, keep still."

Q sighed but leaned back on the stretcher and let them do their work. He had been shot? He hadn't felt it, and still didn't feel any pain. How was that possible? He had heard about shock of course but if that worked so well, he didn't understand why people talked about it as if it were a bad thing…

The door of the ambulance was opened, so he could see the chaos outside. Students were running everywhere, with the police trying to calm them down and stir them together to make sure everyone was all right. A few other ambulance doctors talked to everyone, looked them over, probably searching for injuries. It looked like a few parents had arrived as well, looking frantically for their children. Those who had already found each other, were hugging the trembling and crying children. Funny how 'cool' and 'adult' teenagers suddenly reverted back to their child state when faced with a situation like that…

Q tried to imagine what his own parents would be like. Would they worry? Would they come? Of course they would. They had loved him… If he closed his eyes, he could still see their smiling faces. Everyone said you couldn't remember things from before your second year of life. It was not true for Q though. Why would he be normal in that aspect anyway? He could clearly remember little, everyday things like going to the shop with his mother: him sitting in his stroller as a very little baby, looking at the world wide-eyed and with innocent curiosity. Or watching his father work from his crib, trying to understand all the doodles he could see on the seemingly boring papers that had held his father's interest. That had been when he was around six-seven months old. By the time he was one year old, he had learned – on his own – to read perfectly and later he had even taken over the nighttime stories from his parents with him reading to them every evening. His favorite book had been Moby Dick back then before moving on to others as well. Mycroft had said with a strange twinkle in his eyes that it should have been the Economic News instead while Sherlock only declared him to be an anomaly; one that matched their family perfectly. It had been a twisted kind of approval from both of them.

He was roused from his fond memories of a happier time when someone knocked on the ambulance's side to get his attention. He saw that his shoulder had been bandaged and he had been left alone in there. The doctors were most probably outside to help the others. Had he maybe fallen asleep?

By the ambulance's open doors, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, stood the ex-headmistress, looking slightly worried at him.

"Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to ask if you were all right?" – For once she didn't look her usual arrogant self, more like shy and shaken. She had given up the forced British accent and reverted back to her original American speech. Q had to admit, it suited her better.

"I'm fine, thanks. Sorry to steal your case." – Another thing to feel guilty about… - "I don't think my boss knew the CIA had been on it before we began the operation. He didn't tell me; that's for sure."

"No, it's okay. You were just better."

"Are you going to go back to the States now or do you have to remain for a while to wrap up things here?"

"I'm resigning right away and will probably travel home in a few days. The old headmaster can come back, there was actually nothing wrong with him: we just paid him to take an extended leave. We'll think of a believable explanation for the people in town though I doubt they would be adamant for me to remain. Besides, it's not like there are a lot of secrets anymore…"

"No, there really isn't any." – Q reluctantly agreed. – "What a mess."

"Yeah… May I ask you something?" – At Q's careful nod she continued. – "What organization has sent you? I have never heard of any of them working with teenagers."

"I really can't tell, sorry. But I can assure you: it's not a habit. I am the only one as far as I know. That's why I was ideal for that job. I usually don't do field assignments."

"Well, I certainly hope so. No offence but I think it's really not for children."

"None taken. I'm not a child though."

She smiled at him amusedly.

"No, of course not. Well, I have to go and give my report to the boss." – She made a face at that thought. – "It was a pleasure to meet you, Young Man Whose Name I'll Never Know."

"The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Secret CIA Agent."

They shook hands respectfully and she disappeared into the crowd.

Not long after she had gone, a concerned Olivia ran to him, followed by a frantic-looking Major.

She wrapped him into a gentle hug as soon as they had reached him, while Major started firing question after question at him.

"We heard what happened and came as quickly as we could! Are you hurt badly? Were you really shot? Don't you need to go to the hospital? Should I call Mallory? Or Tanner? Do you need more medical help? Do you need something? Do you-"

"Major, please, let the boy answer!" – Chided him Olivia while running her hand through his hair, messing it up even more – if that was still possible. – "Tell us everything, please."

So Q told them everything that had happened that day in hushed voice, careful not to be overheard by anyone who happened to be nearby. He also managed to placate them by assuring both that yes, he was all right, no, he didn't need any medical help, no, he didn't want nor need to go to the hospital and that the shot had only been a graze, nothing to worry about. (It was not entirely true of course but it didn't matter anymore, the danger had been fended off.)

In the end they calmed down enough to agree to take him home. So after the police had finally reluctantly accepted that no, he was absolutely not going to give his statement to them and no, he would not be disclosing whom he is reporting to but it would be most certainly not them but someone with way higher authority, they finally drove back to the house together.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Q had talked to M. It had not been a happy conversation. M had heard about the shooting of course, hell: literally everyone in England had, and was very worried about him. The teenager couldn't very well report to him over the phone so the details had to wait until he got back home – which was scheduled for the next day.

The boy didn't know how he felt about it. When he had been given the assignment he hadn't been able to imagine anything worse than having to leave London and go to a high school. He'd had awful days here when he hadn't whished anything more than to drop the whole case and return to his minions. But the truth was, he'd had beautiful times, too. He had made friends and even had a near-girlfriend. He had gone to the movie theater, had played football, had visited a mall and had even attended a party. Tanner would be glad of how much 'normal' he had gotten during that short period of time. Mycroft and Sherlock would be horrified about that same thing. Except that he didn't plan on telling any of them much about it of course.

But now, everything had ended with him completing exactly what he had come to do and it was a bittersweet feeling. He was glad of course to have saved lives and knew that criminals like Mr. Johnson Sr. had to be stopped. He even felt a little proud of himself to have bested the CIA… But he was also immensely sad about what that all meant for Michael and Margaret, and especially about the betrayal he had to commit against his best friend. And his heart ached badly for losing Annabel…

The boy was lying in his bed (he couldn't actually remember when exactly he had come to think of it as 'his'), moping around. Of course when Olivia had pointed out what he was doing, he had just growled back at her that respectable Quartermasters did not MOPE, so he naturally wasn't doing it either.

"Well, sulking then." – Replied Olivia, shaking her head in exasperation. Q just huffed (but with much dignity, thank you very much!) and so the woman found it best to leave him to it for a little bit, swearing she would make him come out and eat later even if it was the last thing she'd be doing ever.

As it happened, it was someone else who finally managed to ruse the boy from his room: Around 6:00 PM Annabel arrived at the house and asked to be allowed to talk to 'Danny'. Upon hearing her voice, Q bolted from the bed as if electrocuted and hurried to the front door to meet her.

'Oh, God' – Thought the teenager. 'She actually came here? Why? To tell me how much she hates me now? How I lied to her? Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God…'

"Hi, Annabel. Are you all right?"

"Yes, well, still shaken up a bit… you?" – She asked, pointing at his bandaged arm with hesitancy.

"Oh, that's nothing. It's just…" – Realizing how very uncomfortable this whole conversation would be standing in the hall in the company of the two adults, Q motioned to the garden. – "Come on, let's take a walk outside, shall we?"

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Q started to explain.

"Look, Annabel, I know what you must be thinking of me now: that I'm a traitor and that I am the enemy here. And of course, from your point of view, you are right to some extent. I lied to you about my name, about my past, about… a lot of things. But I didn't do it to hurt you, you have to understand that. I was sent here to do my job, just like 'Mrs. Gibbon' had been sent to do the same, totally independently from me, I might add. I am not from the CIA. We hadn't known about each other for a long time and even after that, we were concurrence, not working together. Well, that really doesn't matter to you, does it…?"

"No, it doesn't, not one bit." – Agreed Annabel and Q's heart sunk further at her harsh tone. – "What matters to me, 'Danny', is whether you lied to me about the both of us as well?"

"NEVER" – Q exclaimed. – "I would never have done that to you. I don't enjoy lying Annabel. I only do it if it's absolutely necessary for the cause. There would have been nothing to gain for the sake of the mission from lying to you about liking you."

"So, you really do like me then?" – This time her voice was more amused than anything.

"Oh, well, yeah…" – He was not blushing, was he? – "I guess I do…"

"That's good, because I think I like you, too." – He was most certainly totally red-faced now.

"Ahm… you do realize that I won't be able to tell you more even now about myself? Not even my name. Which I don't really have anymore, actually, but… yeah. Nothing. Everything is top secret."

"Is it good enough if I continue to call you Danny?"

"Perfect." – Smiled Q but he still had bad news to clarify. – "I won't be able to stay in school…"

"Will we be able to keep in touch?"

"Yes. But we won't be able to meet very often." – He explained with regret. – "At work I'm kept very busy. I usually don't leave my workplace for days on end and when I finally do, I can't just travel here because I have to be available at all times, ready to step in if necessary. To be able to travel here, I have to officially request a leave. I can do that a few times a year. I guess it's all right if you sometimes visit me in London – only if you want to, of course. But this house" – He motioned at the manor. – "This remains here and the occupants have already said I am welcome anytime here. So when I am actually able to leave work for a few days, I'll have a place to stay near you."

"They're not really your aunt and uncle, are they?"

"No. But I have known them for a very long time now, and they are like family to me. They're not paid actors if that's what you thought."

"I have no idea what to think. I feel like I'm part of an action movie…"

"Well, I thought you liked action movies?" – He sighed. – "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You don't. I'll get used to it, don't worry about it. Can we call each other?"

"At certain, pre-arranged times, yes, but sadly: they're subjected to change as work can unexpectedly demand me to stay longer."

"What about e-mails?"

"Anytime."

"Every day then." – They shared a smile at that.

"I can assure you, anything you send to me will be better protected than the NASA itself."

"Wow, so I'll be able to e-mail you my plans to take over the Government?"

"As long as your side of the internet is secured as well, you should be all right with telling me about your world-conquering intentions."

"Oh, good. There are perks to have a secret agent as a boyfriend then." – Did she just say BOYFRIEND? Q felt he could dance! – "These are beautiful, aren't they?"

They have reached the part of the garden where most of the flowers could be found. This is the part where the three of them had been gardening only a few days ago. Why did it feel to Q like it was centuries away?

He picked a flower and gave it to Annabel who took it smiling widely at him. Her happiness was worth the possible rebuke he'd get from Olivia for damaging her perfectly ordered garden.

"That's a Ranunculus."

"It's incredible!"

"Just like you."

Now, finally, it was her who blushed instead of him and Q felt really satisfied about it.

They started to walk into the maze.

"What do you think will happen to Michael now? Will he be all right?"

Q sighed and sobered from his momentary carefree joy.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. He's not injured, thankfully. He's been taken into custody for a while but I'll make sure he'll be acquitted."

"Will you really be able to do that?"

"Of course, don't worry about it. I'm not going to let him or Margaret suffer for their father's sins. They'll have their normal lives back soon."

"Wow. You're really influential, aren't you? If you can make things like that happen."

"It's not me. I just know the right people." – Assured her Q, thinking about contacting Mycroft as soon as he'd arrive home. It's not as if he himself didn't have enough power to get Michael released back to his life in under a minute's time, it's just that he didn't necessary want M or any of the others to know just how deep his affection went for his new friends.

They were walking deeper and deeper into the maze while the sky above them was gradually becoming darker, with a few stars slowly emerging.

"I can't believe something like that could happen here, can you? Oh, sorry, of course you can. It must be an everyday occurrence for you. But for us… It was horrible. Shooting at our school! And by one of our friends…"

"No, believe me, Annabel, it is terrible for me as well. Michael has really become my friend; it was not a lie either. I never anticipated that kind of reaction from him. It's difficult to wrap my mind around it."

"Do you know anything about Margaret or their mother?"

"No, nothing."

In the meantime they had arrived into the middle of the hedge maze where – with the bushes around them being twice their size – it looked like they would never be able to find their way out.

Q turned to the girl, asking:

"Do you like watching the stars? I used to do it a lot as a child."

"Oh, yes, I love it!"

The lay down into the grass to be able to look up better at the sky. By now it was totally dark and all of the stars had become visible.

"I used to love learning the names of the planets and stars and the stories behind the constellations." – Explained Q.

"Oh, I only know a few of them. For example that one is the Cassiopeia, isn't it?" – She said, pointing up to the stars.

"Yes. The God Neptune was the one to place her in heavens but to humiliate her he made her sit on the throne so that she would spend half the night upside-down, with her head pointing towards the North Star Polaris."

"Wow, that's a beautifully sad story. Do you know any more like this?"

"Well… There's the Big Dipper, or Plough." – He said, with his finger drawing the outlines of the mentioned constellation. – "Part of the Ursa Major, or Great Bear. The God Zeus had a lot of human girlfriends, and one of them was called Castillo. One day the both of them were walking together through the woods when they saw Hera, Zeus' wife approaching. For lack of a better hiding place, Zeus turned Castillo into a huge bear to hide her from his partner. Hera was suspicious of her husband walking around alone in the forest, so she insisted they both return to Olympus together right away. So Castillo was left behind and remained like that forever."

"How romantic."

"That other similar constellation there" – He pointed to the right place on the sky. – "Is her son, Arcas, called the Little Dipper."

"Poor family! Are there more?"

"Oh, there are a lot. One of my favorites is there, look; It's Hercules in Roman mythology or Heracles for the Greeks. He was the son of Zeus and a mortal woman, Alcmene. Zeus made Heracles immortal as a baby by making him drink Hera's milk unbeknown to her while she was asleep. When she later found out it enraged her so much that she swore to make Hercules' life as miserable as possible even if she was not able to kill him. She cast a spell on him to make him kill his own children. As soon as the spell had worn off and he realized what he'd done, he wanted to atone for his deed. That's why he had to complete 12 difficult tasks in a period of 12 years. These are called the Labors of Heracles. One of the tasks was to kill the Nemean lion – that's the Leo there, see?"

"Indeed! Wow, there's a lion as well!"

"Yes, other constellations like the Cancer or the Hydra" – He pointed out each of them. – "origin from that story as well. But the point is: his 'sin' was not his fault at all and he still had to suffer for it. But at least through hard work, he could make everything better."

"Life was certainly not easy for the mythological figures."

"No. Mythology seems to have a lot in common with real life."

"Do you think that works in reality, too then? I mean, is there redemption?"

"I don't know. I hope so…"

"And what's that bright star's name there?"

"Where? Oh, that's not a star. That's actually a planet: Venus. The second from the Sun and the second-brightest natural object in the night sky after the Moon. In Greek mythology, it's called Aphrodite. The Goddes of Love, who's said to be a wanderer in search of her lover."

"How sad. Do you think she'll ever find him?"

"She's bound to. She has the eternity."

"And that bright, quickly moving one?"

"I think… I think it might be a satellite."

She burst out laughing at that. "What? A satellite?"

"Not so romantic, is it?" – Asked Q, laughing as well. – "But at least you have your favorite TV shows thanks to it."

"What a moodkiller; I hoped it was a falling star. We could have wished for something then."

"What would you have wished for?"

"For this night to last forever."

Q decided to be brave and kissed her. For real this time. He expected to be shoved away, or slapped, or possible both… But it was not what happened. She actually kissed him back! It was incredible, like fireworks or electricity running through him.

They only stopped when they really had to breathe.

"Wow." – Was all Q could say.

"Well, Mr., I think you might have confused the satellite with mistletoe here." – She teased.

"Oh, no, I would never do that. I'm just creating a new tradition: Kiss every time you're lying on the ground in the middle of a maze during the night, with ants crawling up your T-shirt and a satellite above your head."

"You could take it off…"

"The satellite? I could of course, but I'd need my workstation for that, with a secured computer and internet connection and-"

"I meant your T-shirt!"

"Oh…" – And after a beat. – "OH! You mean…? WHAT do you mean?"

"Is your arm hurting?"

"No…"

"Did the doctors say you weren't allowed any… activity?"

"Well, they said I should avoid strenuous activity for a while… They didn't define it though nor did they say what a 'while' meant."

"And what do you think?"

"I think that the 'while' ended sometime around 8 PM…"

"Good… That's good… It's nearly 10 PM now. Besides, I wouldn't ask you to conquer a lion for me."

"Well, as long as there'll be no three-headed dog guarding the exit of the maze, we should be fine."

"You mean one like Fluffy?"

"I was rather thinking of Cerberus. But if it's indeed Fluffy, you are going to be the one to sing to him, not me!"

"I don't think you'd like to hear my screeching."

"No. I would LOVE to hear your screeching!" – He clarified, kissing her again.

They shared their first time in the middle of the maze under the clear, starry sky.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

By the time he had gone back to the house around 2 AM after having seen Annabel home (there had been no three-headed dog to fight on their way out of the maze), Olivia and Major had already retreated into their shared room and had been asleep – or if not asleep, they were considerate enough not to come out and ask him where he had been that entire time since afternoon.

Q had collapsed on the bed fully clothed and had instantly fallen asleep, only to be woken up by knocking on his half-ajar door before Olivia stepped in.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!"

"Morning…" – Muttered Q still not fully awake into the pillow. – "What time is it?"

"It's nearly seven. According to Mallory, the car to bring you back to London will arrive around ten. I hate to disturb you but you still have to pack and I would like you to be able to dine with us – no objections, young man! – and say a proper goodbye."

Oh, yes, the car… he would go back to London today…

"I'll be down soon."

All right. Just yell if you need help with packing and feel free to take anything you'd like."

"Thanks."

Olivia left the room, closing the door behind her and Q went to take a shower first. He still found some leaves and a spider web in his hair and smiled at the memory of last night. It had been perfect. No, it had been more than that: it had been phenomenal!

His arm was now hurting like hell, but it was absolutely worth it. He didn't even care he was supposed to leave his bandage dry – he had to wash the grass stains out of the gauze dressing somehow after all.

He redressed his wound and put on new cloths.

After he had managed to feel and at least partially look like an actual human being again, he quickly started to gather all his belongings. Up until now he hadn't realized how much of a mess he had made in such a short time: his clothes were all just thrown into the closet, without being properly folded or hung up; his school books lay haphazardly around on the desk and some even on the floor, with pens and pencils to be found on random places in the entire room. He collected all of these and put them neatly into the school bag provided by Major Boothroyd and Olivia Manson to put it carefully beside the desk. He packed his notebooks and timetable for keepsake.

When he was done with that, he pulled off the bedding to take it to the washroom and rearranged his bed.

After making sure the room looked fine, he made his way downstairs with his bag, to meet Major and Olivia in the dining room. The adults have really outdone themselves this time: the table was on the verge of collapse from all the different kinds of bread, crescent roll, bread roll, marmalade, honey, cold meet, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, vegetables and fruits, biscuits, cornflakes, chocolate bars and cakes. There was also a very generous amount of tea, coffee, milk and orange juice. It all looked like the brunch buffet of the best hotels the agents usually frequented during their missions abroad then into raptures over it afterwards.

"Wow! Are we expecting an army for breakfast?" – Ha asked jokingly.

"No, my boy, we're celebrating your success and saying goodbye – even though we hope to see you more often in the future, young man!" – Answered Major and put a plate into the teenager's hands. – "Help yourself!"

This time, Q didn't even think about refusing food, seeing the melancholic expression on both their faces and all the hard work they had put into their last breakfast together. Was it possible they were really sad about his going away?

They ate for a long while, talking about everything and anything – except for last night because Q was avoiding that topic as a plague and the adults didn't seem interested in asking him about it either. Q told them more stories about his adventures with MI6 since they had left; for example about the unpleasant and highly embarrassing way the invincible 009 had found out he was allergic to bee stings during a mission when in the end 003 had to be sent as a substitute to finish the assignment for him while he had been lying in his hotel room with his eyes puffy-red and his face swollen three times its normal size. Q's first course of action – after making sure 003 had succeeded and emerged unscratched of course – was to hack into the security cameras in the hotel room and take some pictures of the suffering agent. He had then converted these to HD quality and enlarged them to poster size. He had even had two pictures printed and framed, then wrapped up as a present to give to Peter upon his return. The Double-O had been totally scandalized about it! He would never live it down of course, Bond and Trevelyan had made sure of that by photographing his every move and facial expression while opening his present.

The adults, in turn, informed him in a more serious tone that according to the morning newspaper the school would be closed off for this and the coming week, with the exams being postponed for the week after that. There would be no more obligatory classes until then but if a student requested, they could attend tutoring held by the teachers in the Community Center of the city. Q found it a reasonable decision, since all the students and teachers alike probably needed time to calm down to be able to return to the place where that frightening ordeal had happened.

Too soon it was time for them to say their final goodbyes and for Q to go out and meet the driver on the front lawn. So they were standing in the hall with Q holding his bag in one hand and an enormous packet of sandwiches and other kinds of food from the morning buffet. ("You're really very underfed, son!") Q figured all the MI6 Headquarters personnel could be fed for a week with that amount of food – or Alec for one mealtime.

"I thank you for all your help. I don't think I would have managed these two weeks without the two of you. It was great to be together again."

"Oh, boy, come here!" – Cooed Olivia, and she wrapped the boy into an affectionate hug for the tenth time. – "I want you to come and visit us as often as you can. I know you're very busy but promise me to make time for us as well!"

"I promise!" – It was just a few hours ago that he had made the same promise to Annabel… And he intended to keep it as well.

"And don't let the Q-Branchers get sloppy; they are there to help you. Remember: you don't have to do everything on your own and work yourself to death, son!" – Chided him Major gently. He knew Q was pushing himself to the extremes but – knowing exactly how hard it was to meet all the expectations in this line of job anyway – he didn't want the teenager to bury himself completely in his work and forget to live his life. – "And the agents are not your bosses. Don't let them order you around!"

Q just smiled at his protectiveness.

"I won't; don't worry."

"Well, all right then. The car should be here in two minutes. Mallory has always demanded punctuality, so I don't think Mike would dare to be late."

"We will expect e-mails and calls from you!" – Reminded him Major.

"Take care!" – Warned Olivia.

Q waved to them from the door.

"I will! And you too! Bye!"

He took a last look at the garden and especially the maze, and smiled. Then walked out to the front gate where he was to meet Mike who would take him back to London.

 **Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q**

Once he was seated in the car, Mike turned to him in greeting.

"Good morning, Quartermaster. M has sent you these files. I believe you're going to find them interesting."

Q took the documents. They probably contained the agents' reports about the arrest of Mr. Johnson and his accomplices.

"Thank you, Mike. I shall read them on the way then."

As they started to drive away, Q couldn't bring himself to open the papers right away. He watched as the manor grew smaller and smaller, until he couldn't see it anymore. Still, he continued staring out of the window. He saw the now familiar places and houses disappear as they gained speed. There they were all: the bus stop, Michael's house, the school, the mall… everything that had come to mean to him something in such a short time.

To his honest astonishment, he found he couldn't wait to come back when he next would be able to get a few days off.

But until then he had a lot of work to do. He had to write his report for M about his undercover mission (heavily redacted, of course, he thought with a smile); he would need to contact Mycroft about letting Michael out; and then he'd have to take a deep breath and check what kind of chaos could be awaiting him in Q-Branch after being away for so long…

As he finally opened the file M had sent him, he thought that while all in all he had enjoyed experiencing things he may have missed growing up, he still thought he couldn't complain about his current life as the youngest Quartermaster of MI6.

In the folder there was an official-looking complaint signed by all the participating Double-Os about the difficulties they had had to face without Q guiding them through the mission in Scotland. Apparently, on the way to find Mr. Johnson Sr. they had been lost four times because the minions hadn't been able to agree on the best route to send them on and had been broadcasting their argument over the comms, forcing the driver to take totally unnecessary turns and bypasses. Also, it looked like his co-workers hadn't perfected the art of managing multiply assignments at the same time yet and had kept messing up the intended recipient of certain instructions, totally confusing the spies about what they should listen to and what was meant for someone else. According to Alec's report, he had run with full speed into a wall because R had shouted 'to the right now!' very urgently but had forgotten to say she had been addressing Bond instead of him.

Q knew he should be irritated about this incoordination but quite honestly, he just felt absolutely fond of them all.

'Really' – He told himself mentally. – 'Who wants to live an average life when they can have an interesting one instead? Normal is overrated.'

 _Fin_


End file.
